


Dream With Me

by LadySlytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Dream Sex, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Rating: NC17, immaculate conception, sort of, virgin pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a virgin, and not exactly happy about it. When Harry finds out he’s pregnant – and will face enough magical drain to kill him in just a few short months without the other parent to help supply magic to the unborn baby – it’s a race against the clock to figure out not just how Harry became pregnant in the first place, but who the other father is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream With Me

**Author's Note:**

> A gigantic thank you to my beta, Tif, for being sweet enough to beta this ridiculously quickly so I could get this submitted extra-fast. Another huge thank you to Queenie_Mab and BeiliLee for reading and cheerleading and being utterly lovely during the creation of this. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you lovely ladies! I really loved this fic; it turned out way better than I could ever have imagined it would. I hope the prompter enjoys it as well!
> 
> And the final HD_Mpreg fic from this year's fest. <3 ~ LS

_"Intra somnia ego ambulo."_

_The words were whispered in darkness and privacy; in ash and soot and ruin. They were whispered in desperation; in need; in hopelessness. They were whispered in pain and longing and desire. And in such things, there is a power that cannot be contained. In such things, there is a will too strong to be denied._

_In such things...there is magic._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry wasn't sure why he'd bothered returning to Hogwarts for his Eighth Year. Kingsley had offered him a position as an Auror _without_ his NEWTs; he didn't _need_ to return. But accepting the job had felt wrong on so many levels and Harry hadn't been able to do it. The NEWTs were being waived for all of the students who'd fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, in fact, but like Harry many had chosen to return to school. Harry wondered if it was because they weren't ready to face the real world yet, or because they felt they didn't know enough, or simply because it didn't seem right to use a war to get ahead.

For Harry, it had been a little bit of all three.

Now, it was creeping up on Christmas break and Harry was getting restless. He had thought - when he'd let himself think about it at all - that if he'd survived the war, things would fall neatly into place. He and Ginny would pick up where they'd left off, they'd get married, they'd have a family, he would be an Auror, Ron and Hermione would share Sunday dinners with them, and they'd all grow old together. Of course, life wasn't a fairytale. Harry should have known that, after everything that had happened. Life was never simple; never easy. And things with Ginny weren't progressing quite as he'd hoped.

And Harry was getting more and more frustrated every day because snogging and tentative touches - mostly _through_ clothing - had been all well and good when his mind had been focused on Horcruxes and Voldemort, but now it wasn't. Now it was focused on the same thing every eighteen year old boy's mind was focused on: sex. Which he wasn't having. Not because he didn't _want_ to, because he _did_ , thank you very much. But just because it was an utterly terrifying prospect.

Not Ginny; she was gorgeous, not terrifying. From her willowy frame and firm breasts, to her long legs and the subtle curve of her waist, Harry found Ginny completely beautiful. He loved how pale her skin was, and the way her freckles dusted it. He loved her warm brown eyes and the way her lips curved with just a hint of wickedness. He loved the golden sheen of her flame-red hair, the way her cheeks flushed when they kissed, and her rich, full-bodied laugh. And he _really_ wanted to have sex with her.

But Ginny also had a whole group of older brothers. Men he respected and liked and was just a little bit afraid of. Okay, terrified of. And every time he slipped his hands under the hem of Ginny's shirt and let his fingers brush that soft skin, he panicked. Because all he could see was Ron, his face twisted in fury...and Bill and Charlie, wands drawn...and George, plotting ways to make him suffer. It was enough to make anyone think twice about despoiling the lovely Ginny Weasley and Harry was long past second, third, or even fourth thoughts...he was well into the hundreds, in fact, and it didn't seem like he'd be finding the courage to move forward anytime soon.

Not that he thought Ginny would tell her brothers, of course. But Ron would _know_. Just like Harry had known the moment Ron had finally slept with Hermione. It showed on Ron's face, in the way he smiled and walked, in the look in his eyes when he looked at Hermione. And Harry had known, as surely if he'd been told. So Ron would know and then Ginny's other brothers would know and Harry would be a dead man. So despite Ginny's responsiveness, and the heated promise in her eyes, Harry just couldn't take things further than those tentative brushes of skin. It was making him spare.

In fact, Harry was pretty sure he'd already lost his mind. Ever since he'd returned to Hogwarts in September, he'd been having the most insane dreams. He couldn't remember much, just bits and pieces, but it was enough to make him question everything. The dreams were a series of heated, intense flashes of time...and they were clearly of himself with another bloke.

Which Harry wasn't too upset about, because he knew he loved Ginny and finding some dream-man attractive didn't change that. Neither did noticing that Blaise Zabini had a nice ass...or that Lisa Turpin curved in all the right ways. Looking and thinking and dreaming weren't things Harry could help, after all; he _was_ only human. And he wasn't touching anyone, so he wasn't technically cheating on Ginny. And he was sure she thought about other people sometimes, too, and that was alright as well. They were teenagers, after all.

And besides, the dreams were probably just because he wasn't having sex. Enough frustration would have anyone waking up to sticky sheets. It was nothing to be worried about.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Sweat-slicked skin met sweat-slicked skin and Harry moaned. His nails scraped down the narrow, elegant line of his lover's spine as he arched up to meet the other man. Hot breath hit the skin of Harry's throat in short, sharp bursts and a wicked tongue traced the curve of his ear. Harry felt like he was burning alive..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry was hot. Flushed and panting and fanning himself with his hand, in fact. It was two days until Christmas break and the Potion's classroom was unbearable, though Harry didn't know why. Normally, it was kept barely-warm to combat the heat from the many fires heating their cauldrons. Harry briefly wondered if perhaps Slughorn had done something to the room's temperature charms, but he couldn't imagine why the man would have. And no one else seemed to be sweating. He hoped he wasn't getting sick.

Hermione suddenly leaned over her desk, whispering a little too loudly. "Harry, are you okay? You're not stirring!"

"What?" Harry blinked, bringing his eyes back into focus and shaking his head to clear the fuzziness from his brain. "Oh, right. Thanks."

He resumed stirring, then offered his partner a weak smile. Olivia Rivers was one of the only Hufflepuffs from the new Eighth Year taking a NEWT in Potions and she merely rolled her eyes at Harry as she chopped. Then, her lips moving as she counted, she dropped paper-thin slices of valerian root into the cauldron. A deep, acid-green steam began to rise from the potion. It smelled like licorice and dandelions and something sharp and bitter that Harry didn't have a name for. Olivia turned back to her book, double-checking the next step.

Harry kept stirring for several seconds, then his whole body heaved and he hastily stepped back. The glass stirring rod slipped from his hands, shattering as it hit the stone floor. Olivia gasped, her head snapping round. Everyone else was staring as well, including Slughorn who seemed concerned. Harry took a deep breath, shaking his head again, then his whole body heaved once more and his hands flew up to cover his mouth.

Bile burned its way up his throat, the sickly-sweet flavor exploding over his tongue as it filled his mouth. Harry rushed to the sink they used to wash their equipment, turning on the taps even as his stomach emptied itself. For several moments after, he simply leaned on the sink, shaking. Then he cupped his hands under the faucet to catch some water, rinsing his mouth out and splashing some on his face.

When he straightened up at last, Slughorn was at his side. "My dear boy, you don't look at all well!" He tutted softly, shaking his head. Harry was pale and shaking and his skin was slicked with sweat; he looked like he might collapse. "Off to Poppy with you, Harry. Right now."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but his stomach twisted sharply again and he groaned, wrapping his arms around himself and curling into the discomfort. The vaguely-metallic aftertaste of sickness still coating his mouth and his teeth feeling fuzzy and strange, combined with his still-churning stomach and the faint dizziness he felt, was enough to convince Harry that his professor was right. He needed to go to the hospital wing. Still hunched over, Harry nodded and took a wobbly step towards the door.

Slughorn stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No, no, Harry. I'll have none of that. You look likely to collapse before you make it out of the dungeons!"

"And wouldn't that be a right pity?" Zabini drawled, nudging Malfoy with an elbow. Malfoy laughed hollowly, but there was no real amusement on his face. The Slytherin had been surprisingly subdued since returning to school and Zabini seemed determined to take up the slack, though his insults and jibes lacked the flair Malfoy's had always had.

"That's enough, Mr. Zabini." Slughorn chided, but it was gentle; Blaise was still one of his favorites and everyone knew it. Then he snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared, to which he said. "I need you to take this student to the infirmary."

The house elf nodded, reaching out and touching Harry's arm. Harry had only a moment to brace himself before the elf whisked them both to the hospital wing. Harry stumbled over to the nearest bed, immediately curling up on his side. His eyes fluttered shut and a moment later he was sound asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Lips met, then parted, then pressed closer. A tongue licked its way into Harry's mouth and he sucked on it lightly before chasing it back into the other man's mouth. As always, his lover tasted of coffee and vanilla; it was a flavor Harry had come to crave. Harry's hands slid into silky hair, tangling there as he devoured the mouth of the man above him. Harry needed this man more than food or water or air...he needed him more than life..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up feeling greatly improved. He no longer felt like he was overheating, and the dizziness and nausea had faded. As he sat up, a soft chime sounded through the ward and Harry bit back a groan; that sound meant Madam Pomfrey had put up a charm to alert her when he woke up. A glance at the darkened windows told Harry it was probably dinner time by now and he'd slept for several hours. He wondered why the Mediwitch hadn't just woken him up. Harry's eyes widened in shock, then he immediately started worrying, when Poppy came out of her office followed by Minerva.

Harry attempted to calm down, reminding himself that the Headmistress' presence could be explained by a dozen things other than himself, but it didn't help. Harry didn't have that sort of luck, after all. The stern, disapproving look on Minerva's face wasn't helping. Harry tried to remember if he'd done anything to merit getting into trouble recently, but nothing sprang to mind. Poppy was frowning as well, but it seemed to be as much concern as disapproval, which just served to confuse Harry further.

They stopped beside his bed and simply stared at him in unison. Harry didn't know what to say, so he just stared back. Suddenly a frazzled-looking wizard rushed in. It was the DADA teacher - hopefully the last 'new' one they'd have for a while - Professor Alexander Trimble. He was also Harry's new Head of House. Harry didn't know the man well - he seemed consistently busy to Harry - but his presence didn't bode well. Harry swallowed hard, his eyes darting from one adult to the next, wondering who would speak first.

"Mr. Potter..." It was Trimble who spoke first, mopping at his forehead with a handkerchief and a shaking hand.

"It's all right, Alex." Minerva stopped him almost immediately. She turned the full force of her disapproval on Harry. "Now, Harry, I am aware that you are an adult. And not only are you an adult, you are also a full year older than our top-year students usually are. Because of this, the faculty has allowed you and your Year-mates more freedom than is normally granted to students. But this...this _blatant_ show of irresponsibility and lack of forethought is horrifying. And from _you_ , of all people...well, I am shocked and disappointed, to say the very least."

Harry blinked at her for a moment, utterly baffled, then said. "But I don't understand, Headmistress. Professor Slughorn sent me down here because I felt sick during class. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I didn't even realize I was tired!"

Poppy made a tsking sound. "You see, Minerva? I told you he was probably as-yet unaware. I have been in care of Harry more than any other student and I knew he would not disregard his health by not coming to see me. Not for _this_." Her face had softened considerably and she patted Harry's hand. "You aren't sick, dear. You're pregnant. Which is, of course, the reason Minerva is in such a tizzy. All of us are, of course. Been years since we had a student in such a state and..."

"I'm a bloke." Harry broke in, cutting the Mediwitch off. There were other thoughts in his head that were nearly as important, but that was the one that came out first.

"Yes, dear, I know." Poppy looked at him oddly. "I've examined you quite a few times over the years, after all."

"So..." Harry gave her an incredulous look. "Why would you say I'm pregnant? I'm a _bloke_. I haven't got a...you know. The right bits. For being pregnant, I mean."

Poppy just stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "Oh, Harry. I sometimes forget you were raised by Muggles, knowing your parents as I did. Male pregnancy isn't uncommon with Wizards, though _accidental_ male pregnancy is a bit rarer." She shook her head, still chuckling, then turned to riffle through a nearby cabinet. "The other father must be quite the powerful wizard."

"But I..." Harry's mouth moved silently for a moment as he struggled to order his thoughts. "I haven't been...I mean I'm not...that is, I've never..."

Minerva sighed, her eyes softening slightly. "Now, Harry, it's nothing to be ashamed of. While there are, of course, some narrow-minded people, the Wizarding World as a whole is quite accepting. Albus himself was so-inclined, you know." A bit more sternly, she added. "My disapproval doesn't stem from that, you know, but from the lack of responsibility shown in you getting yourself into such a state to begin with. I do understand that teenagers will do as they will do and we can't stop it entirely, but there are precautions you ought to have taken and your lack of care in doing so is deplorable!"

"But I'm a virgin." Harry blurted it out without thought, then flushed a deep red. He chewed his lower lip for a moment as the adults stared at him in shock, then mumbled. "So I can't be pregnant, because...well, no sex."

"Mr. Potter, are you certain?" Professor Trimble asked, looking intrigued. When Harry nodded, because he would know if he'd had sex, Trimble asked eagerly. "May I confirm? It's a simple spell...just a quick cast..."

"Oh, er..." Harry shrugged, a little uncomfortable but wanting this all sorted out. "I suppose so, Professor. If it will help..."

"Corporis puritatem revelio!" Trimble waved his wand over Harry as he spoke, his eyes gleaming as he waited.

Harry jumped slightly as he began to glow, a bright and shimmering gold. Poppy and Minerva both gasped while Trimble bounced on the balls of his feet, looking thrilled. Harry stopped glowing after a moment and he asked tentatively. "So...now what?"

"Poppy, is this possible?" Minerva had turned on the Mediwitch, demanding. "Has Harry somehow managed a parthenogenetic pregnancy?"

"A moment, Minerva..." Poppy set down the potion she'd fished out of the cabinet before Harry's revelation and began casting on Harry.

Harry's chart and the attached self-inking quill flew up into the air, hovering beside the Mediwitch. As she cast spell after spell on her patient, the quill flew over the parchment. It recorded the results, which Poppy continually glanced at. Her casting never faltered and it was a good fifteen minutes before she finally stopped. Then she snatched Harry's chart out of the air and flipped rapidly through the pages. Her lips moved soundlessly as she read, her eyes growing wider and wider.

Finally, Harry couldn't take it anymore and asked. "I'm not pregnant, right? I mean, I can't be, can I? So what's wrong?"

"You are most definitely pregnant, Harry." Minerva's voice was tense and a bit sharp, but her eyes were locked on Poppy. "The question is _how_ , because you are also clearly virginal. Is the child solely his, Poppy?"

Poppy shook her head. "No, Minerva. The baby clearly has two sets of parental DNA, both male. This child has another father out there. And I do not know how."

Harry couldn't breathe; his chest felt tight and his lungs burned. He kept breathing in, but he didn't seem to be getting any air. Spots began to dance in front of his eyes. He heard shouting as his head began to spin, then Poppy hit him with some sort of spell and everything in him eased. As he let out a shaking breath, tears filled his eyes. He wasn't even sure _why_ , because he didn't feel sad or angry...just overwhelmed. But the tears were there nonetheless.

Horribly embarrassed, Harry rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, sniffling. His embarrassment grew when he realized that sometime during his freak-out his friends had arrived. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were gathered next to the bed he was sitting on. Trimble had vanished as well. Not that Harry minded; the man was too nervous by half and reminded Harry uncomfortably of Quirrell.

Everyone was looking concerned and confused and Minerva was speaking to Hermione. "We are going to need your research skills, Hermione. I am at a loss on this."

"Of course." Hermione flicked her eyes to Harry, then asked. "What am I researching? Is Harry okay? Has he been cursed?"

"Harry is..." Poppy hesitated, then looked at Harry. "Is it all right if I tell them? I imagine this is all quite overwhelming for you, considering..."

Harry just nodded, sniffling again and wiping at more tears; he couldn't seem to make them stop. It was horrifying, but Harry was beginning to feel a bit numb. He imagined that was the shock of it all.

Poppy patted his arm and murmured. "The tears are normal, dear, no worries. Hormones and all that." Then she turned back to Harry's friends and explained softly. "Harry is pregnant."

"What?" The word left Ginny's mouth in a breathless sigh. Her whole body swayed and she clutched at Ron's arm for support. She turned stunned eyes on Harry, looking completely devastated. "Harry...what..."

Ron's face darkened with fury. "You cheated on her?" He snarled, practically vibrating with his anger. Harry cringed backwards as Ron spat. "You miserable son of a..."

"Mr. Weasley!" Minerva's sharp reprimand cut off Ron's tirade. She gave him a stern look, then added. "Harry has not cheated on Miss Weasley. Hermione, this is why I need you to help with the researching; I have never heard of something like this happening."

"I don't understand." Hermione's eyes were moving rapidly from side-to-side as though scanning pages in a book while she thought. "Are you saying the baby is Ginny's?"

"We haven't had sex." Ginny murmured, her eyes still locked on Harry's face. She still looked hurt, but it was colored by confusion now. "He has to have cheated..."

"Harry is a virgin." Poppy said it gently but Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all gaped at her anyway. "We used the Chastity Spell to check and he's utterly pure."

Hermione nodded slowly. "So the child is his alone?"

Minerva shook her head. "No, that was my first thought as well. But Poppy is positive the child has two parents, both male. We just do not know _how_."

Hermione thought for several moments, then asked delicately. "If Harry...if he were...you know, _attacked_...and if he'd then been Obliviated..."

Harry paled; the thought of being raped and then Obliviated made him feel ice cold. Poppy shook her head immediately, though, calming him. "No, Miss Granger. The Chastity spell checks for _physical_ virginity, not mental. Harry is untouched, yet pregnant. We need to find out how, as well as determine who the other parent is. The child will need access to _both_ of their magic before much longer."

"How much longer?" Hermione asked; she needed to know how much time she had. "How far along is Harry?"

"Nearly four months." Poppy answered. "So we've got about three months before the baby will begin to drain Harry dangerously without the other parent present." She picked up the potion she'd gotten out before and handed it to Harry. "And you'll need to drink this."

Harry sighed, but swallowed it down without question. He was surprised to find it tasted vaguely like berries and was slightly effervescent.

Ginny drew his attention by asked softly. "Was that a nutrient potion?"

Poppy nodded. "Yes, Miss Weasley. Harry will need to take one once a week for now. When he's a bit further along, he'll need them more often. They'll ensure the baby has absolutely everything it needs."

Ron cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Sorry."

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know. Can't blame you for thinking it. This whole thing is kind of...surreal. You know?" Then he glanced at Ginny and asked softly. "Are you...I mean, are we..."

Ginny looked at Harry, her mouth moving soundlessly for a moment, then she said. "I'm sorry, Harry. I...I love you. You know that. But...this is...I can't. I know it's not your fault, and I know you didn't cheat, but it's not _mine_...it's not _ours_. And I just can't."

Harry nodded, dropping his eyes to his lap, twisting his fingers restlessly together. "I...can we still be friends?" He asked it in a whisper, struggling not to cry again.

Ginny gently cupped Harry's cheek, tipping his face up to hers and promising solemnly. "Of course, Harry. We'll _always_ be friends."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Heat and pressure and friction, eased by the slick glide of lube. Harry gasped and moaned, his head thrashing from side-to-side. His lover was as naked as Harry and their cocks lined up, rubbing and grinding together. Harry's hands fisted in the sheets, his back arching off the bed. The other man's lips found Harry's and their tongues tangled even as Harry's body crept closer to release. Harry's hands came up, clutching his lover's shoulders, his nails digging into smooth skin, desperate for more..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had intended to go to the Weasleys’ for Christmas, but in light of his unexpected, unplanned, and entirely unprecedented pregnancy he had decided it might be better not to. Instead, he was one of the only students staying at the castle over break. Ron and Hermione were two of the others staying, of course, because they had refused to let Harry stay alone. Ginny, however, had opted to go home. Which Harry was feeling torn about. On the one hand, he wanted to be alone...on the other, he really needed support.

Still, as much as he loved Ginny, he felt like time apart was best right now. For both of them. Because when your virginal boyfriend wound up pregnant...well, that changed everything and time to think was pretty much mandatory. And he had Ron and Hermione for support. Though Ron was mostly staring at him a lot, looking utterly confused. And Hermione kept rushing off to the library. Which wasn’t unusual. But she also kept asking horribly invasive questions.

Which was what she was doing at that moment, despite it being Christmas Eve. A day when no one should be asking anyone horrifying things. “Hermione!” Harry just gaped at her.

“Well, it’s a reasonable question!” Hermione snapped back, though her face was bright red. “And I need to know the answer. This is all for the sake of figuring this out, Harry.”

With his own cheeks still burning, Harry mumbled. “No, I haven’t put any unidentified objects or substances _up my bum_ and can we _please_ stop talking about this? For the love of everything, Hermione. _Please?”_

“Fine.” Hermione picked up one of the books she had stacked in front of her and began to read. Ron was determinedly pretending not to have heard anything and Harry just enjoyed the silence.

After a moment, Hermione peeked over the top of her book and asked. “Okay, so have you put something inside yourself that you _thought_ you knew what it was but maybe it was something else? Or used a vial you thought was oil but maybe it wasn’t?”

“No! I’ve not put _anything_ up my bum!” Harry stood up, his hands fisted in his hair like he was going to start ripping it out. “Oh my god, Hermione, I can’t take this anymore! I just...I need some air. I’ll...I’ll be back later, okay? If you have more questions for me, just...owl them to me so I don’t have to hear you say stuff like that ever again. Seriously.”

Harry practically ran from the Common Room, ignoring the sound of Ron and Hermione bickering behind him. He stood in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait for a moment, trying to decide where to go. He wanted fresh air, but it was cold and snowing outside so the grounds weren’t the best choice. He chewed on his lip for a moment, then headed towards the Astronomy tower. The roof was private and had fresh air, but it also had weather-preventing charms so classes could be taught even in winter. So it would be warm and snow-free, unlike the grounds.

Harry climbed the stairs, then slipped through the door and out onto the roof. Even though he’d climbed to the top probably a hundred times, this time it seemed much taller. His legs ached and he was short of breath and he just felt tired. Harry sighed and sat down, bracing his back against the parapet and tipping his head back to look up. The grey sky was releasing fat, fluffy snowflakes and Harry found it strangely soothing to watch them hit the invisible dome of the weather-combating magic encasing the tower. They touched it, rested for a moment, then melted into droplets of water that rolled down the side. Harry imagined there were icicles somewhere below because of it.

Harry blinked, then blinked again. The third blink was slow and his eyelids felt heavy. When Harry’s eyes fell shut for the fourth time, they stayed that way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Harry’s breath shuddered out on a low, desperate sob. The soft, soothing murmur of his lover’s voice in his ear did nothing to calm him. He felt full; stretched. But it wasn’t enough. Harry needed more; he needed the man inside him to move. He made a needy, keening sound, his nails dragging sharply down his lover’s back, his hips canting upwards. A low, husky laugh in his ear made him shiver._

_That deep voice curled wickedly through Harry as his lover purred. “You need me, don’t you? You’re so desperate...so needy. You’re gagging for it, Harry.” A hot tongue traced the curve of his ear, then the voice added. “Tell me, Harry. Say you need me...”_

_“I do...” Harry moaned, his legs coming up around the other man’s waist even as his nails dug deeper into sweat-slicked skin. “Please...I need this...I need you...”_

_Another low, dark chuckle, then his lover finally began to move. Harry was practically sobbing in relief, his body moving with his lover’s without thought...striving towards release, coiling tighter...needing to feel the other man climax inside him...wanting that closeness, that completion, that intimacy. Harry..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

...opened his eyes with a gasp, his whole body jolting awake as though he’d been shocked. He was panting, flushed, and aroused. And horrified. He scrambled to his feet, then ran the whole way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. He _had_ to tell Hermione about the dreams...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Telling Hermione about his dreams proved to be embarrassing enough that Harry hid in his dorm the rest of the day. He’d have hidden the next day as well if it hadn’t been Christmas. As it was, Harry opened his gifts in silence. Then he sat quietly in the Great Hall between his friends while Ron played chess with some Ravenclaws and Hermione frantically searched through more books. Harry left her to it, since it seemed his admission of the dreams had sparked something in her memory.

Because so few students had stayed over break, the House tables – and the Head Table – had all been shoved against the walls and a long oval table was set in the center of the room. It made meals a bit stilted, since the few students who remained didn’t know each other well and the staff supervising them didn’t have much to say to them, but it also made the school feel less-empty. At least at mealtimes.

Harry was ignoring everyone else, so he jumped when a soft, polite voice asked. “May I play the winner?” He looked up to see Malfoy was speaking to Ron’s current chess partner, a Ravenclaw boy from two years below them.

The boy shrugged even as he moved a piece, looking resigned. “That’s up to Ron, as he’s about to slaughter me, but no one else has called it. He’s damned good, though, Draco. Might be better than you.”

Ron frowned, not looking pleased, but Harry knew he’d never turn down the chance to best Malfoy at something. Ron made his final move. “Checkmate.” Then he lifted his eyes to Malfoy and said. “I suppose I can play you. Prepared to lose?”

Harry waited for the snide remark, but it didn’t come. Instead, a strange look crossed Malfoy’s face and he muttered. “These days? Always.” Then the Slytherin shook his head, lifted his chin, and said a bit more forcefully. “I play a damned fine game of chess, Weasley. I’ve heard you do as well. So do your best; I like a challenge.”

Ron blinked, stunned, then cleared his throat and waved his wand to repair his pieces and set them in their places. Draco opened the small box he’d been carrying, which contained a complete set – both black and white pieces – of chess players. “Brought your own men? Good.” Ron nodded his approval. “You’re the challenger, so you’re black.”

Malfoy nodded and silently began setting his men on the board. Harry shook his head and went back to doodling mindlessly on a scrap of parchment.

The next time Harry’s attention was drawn was about twenty minutes later. Ron and Malfoy were still playing, Hermione was buried in books and scribbling frantically away about something-or-another, and Harry had been sitting still for so long he could no longer feel his ass. What brought his mind back to where he was, was Zabini’s drawling voice. It was odd, but something about the prim way Zabini spoke set Harry’s teeth on edge; it seemed false. As though he were trying to sound more cultured than he was. It was a direct contrast to the effortlessly-smooth voice of Malfoy.

“Playing with the Weasel, Draco? Come now, surely you aren’t _that_ bored!” Zabini let out a low, breathless laugh that sounded as fake as his speech. “I’m sure we can find something more entertaining for you to do, love…” Zabini’s hand trailed over Malfoy’s shoulder, then down the blonde’s arm; his tone was a suggestive purr and coupled with the leer on his face it was clear what he meant.

Harry’s eyebrows winged up; he hadn’t realized Zabini swung that way. Malfoy scowled, shifting uncomfortably away from the attractive dark-skinned teen. “I’ve told you before, Blaise, I’m not interested in you!” He shook his head and added. “And Weasley here is actually playing a decent game. I’ve no intention of forfeiting to him. Leave off.”

Zabini frowned, then turned on his heel and stalked off. Malfoy ignored him in favor of making his next move, though nearly everyone else watched him go. Harry turned back to his doodling, wishing he could just go lay down. He seemed to be always tired these days.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Harry arched his back, a scream building in his throat. Hot, wet suction was surrounding his cock while a wicked tongue teased the underside. Firm hands grasped his hips, pushing him back down to the bed. Harry wished he could see his lover’s face. He wanted to watch as his cock slid in and out of that gorgeous mouth, but his lover had blindfolded him._

_“To raise your anticipation…” The other man had whispered. “To leave you wondering what I’ll do to you next; where I’ll touch…or taste…”_

_It had worked, too. By the time his lover had finally touched his cock, Harry had been begging._

_Harry’s lover took his cock further into his mouth, swallowing around him as Harry’s length nudged the back of his throat. Harry let loose the scream that had been building, spilling himself down the other man’s throat. His lover swallowed, then gently licked Harry clean. When Harry could take no more, squirming and whining as the sensitive flesh was teased by that tongue, his lover laughed._

_The low, dark chuckle curled around Harry, tickling something in his mind; some memory of that sound, which wrapped around his mind like a serpent._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Harry woke, the memory was still there…but it was vague and ephemeral. And the harder Harry tried to place the sound, the harder it became. It slipped away, like sand through his fingers, and finally Harry sighed and gave up. Maybe he’d get lucky and today Hermione would find something.

It had been two months since he’d found out he was pregnant and he was starting to have trouble hiding his _‘condition’_ from everyone. His loose school robes helped to a degree, but the growing swell of his stomach was soon going to be too large to hide. Harry had been hoping – since his stomach had barely curved at the four-month mark – that he wouldn’t show until very late. That hope had been crushed when his belly had seemed to blossom overnight just a week earlier. And it seemed stubbornly determined to _keep_ growing, at a nearly alarming rate.

Harry dressed for class, careful not to let his dorm mates see him without clothes on, then growled at his stomach. It seemed especially determined to stick out today, which was frustrating. Harry tugged on the front of his robes, trying to get the fabric to stop clinging to his belly, then gave up. If anyone asked, he’d just shrug and say he’d put on a few pounds. It happened, after all. People gained weight all the time. It didn’t mean they were _pregnant_. And this weekend he’d pick up some looser robes.

Harry skipped breakfast – otherwise he’d get sick, as he’d found out – and went right to Charms. He’d just sat down at the back of the classroom when Hermione burst into the room, rushing to his side. There were only a couple of others present, but they all ignored Hermione. She was often a whirlwind of energy these days and it had become quite common place to see her rushing around the castle. Harry, however, was hoping for good news as she sat next to him.

“I think I found it.” Hermione hissed, shoving an open book at him. “Look at this…it’s called an Incubus Charm and it looks like a good fit.”

Harry leaned over the book, his eyes tracing the page, then he turned to look at Hermione in fond exasperation. “Hermione, this is in Latin.”

“Yes, so?” Hermione shoved a strand of hair behind her ear, then froze for a moment before laughing and shaking her head. “Right, of course. You don’t read Latin. Sorry.” Ignoring Ron as he came in and sat on her other side, Hermione whispered. “Okay, basically the Incubus Charm allows the caster to enter the dreams of someone they desire. Once there, they control the dream and can do as they please which usually entails having sex with the object of their desire.”

“So you’re saying my dream lover is someone _real?”_ Harry hissed, feeling sick to his stomach. “Like, it’s some stranger who’s just…creeping? That’s…ugh!”

Hermione bit her lip, looking thoughtful. “Well, there’s a distance limit. So chances are he’s here at the school, or else in Hogsmeade. I’d say here at the school, though. I don’t know the precise distance from the castle to the village, but I think it’s too far.” Then she looked apologetic and added. “But yes, he’s real. And unlike you, he’s in complete control of the dreams. He _knows_ what he’s doing, Harry.”

Harry cast a nervous look at Flitwick as he started the lesson, ignoring the way Ron was looking green – clearly he was listening to Hermione as well – and asked in a murmur. “Do you think he meant to…you know, get me…”

Hermione shrugged and whispered back, her hand flying over parchment as she somehow took notes on the lesson at the same time. “I don’t know, Harry. I mean, the Incubus Charm has been used to cause female pregnancy before, but male pregnancies are different and I don’t know if there’s been a case of it happening this way. So I don’t know if he knew this could happen. We won’t know that until we find him.”

Harry swallowed hard. Find him…find the man who made him beg and scream in pleasure nearly every night; the man who had gotten him pregnant without ever _really_ touching him. Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about that, so he just asked hoarsely. “How?”

Hermione gave him a sad smile and said softly. “I don’t know yet, Harry. I just don’t know.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Harry groaned and pressed backwards, into his lover’s thrusts. Those long-fingered, strong hands were gripping his hips with bruising force as he slammed into Harry. Harry rocked forward with each thrust, but kept pushing his ass backwards, eager for more. A particularly vicious thrust had Harry toppling forward, his hands sliding out from under him._

_The man behind him never faltered. His hands kept Harry’s hips right where he wanted them and Harry obligingly arched his back almost impossibly far to accommodate the change in position. Harry turned his face to the side, his cheek pressed to the pillow, and wrapped his arms around it. He bit his lip, still pressing back into the thrusts, wishing he could kiss the man behind him._

_As though reading Harry’s mind, the man curled down over him, thrusting shallowly now, and pressed his lips to Harry’s cheek. Harry turned his head, capturing those lips with his own. He savored the brush of silky hair against his face, loving all the little things that made up his lover..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry was starting to get scared. It had been another two weeks and he was starting to near what Hermione and Madam Pomfrey were calling “the danger zone” in terms of magical drain. Ron had joined Hermione in pouring over books, searching for a way to track the other father. Harry himself was too tired most of the time to do anything besides go to class and nap. He was also getting ridiculously large. Hermione had kindly taken to casting a Glamour on him each morning, but Harry was terrified someone would notice his pregnancy before they had all the answers.

He had started a chart of all the things he knew about his dream-lover. Fit; he knew that. Long-fingered hands that were faintly calloused. Pale skin. Lanky. Taller than himself. Silky hair. Domineering. And if his taste was anything to go by, fond of coffee. 

Harry knew other things as well, of course, but they weren’t of much use. His dream-lover was an amazing kisser. He gave fabulous blowjobs. He could make Harry scream with pleasure. His cock was just-slightly longer and thicker than Harry’s own. But none of those did Harry any good; he couldn’t exactly demand to see everyone at Hogwarts’ cocks. Or snog them all to see how it compared. What he _really_ needed was a good, long look at his lover’s face.

He knew he’d seen it. Harry was usually face-to-face with his lover. But for some reason he could never recall it when he woke up. He knew the other man was gorgeous; the awe and desire he felt told him that much, if nothing else. But even with the other things he knew, it wasn’t enough. There were still too many options; too many variable; too many bloody possibilities. And he needed to find the man. Sooner, rather than later, if he didn’t want to end up dead from magical drain in just a few weeks’ time.

So it was with a large amount of worry that Harry dragged himself into Potions. Slughorn - like all of the teachers - knew of his pregnancy. He had to be careful not to harm the baby, after all. So Harry wasn’t surprised when Slughorn gestured to a table at the front of the room, where no cauldron was set up; instead it held a stack of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of red ink. Apparently they were brewing something he couldn’t touch, which meant Harry got to grade First and Second Year tests. On days like this, the other students were just told Harry was allergic to a key-ingredient and thus unable to brew.

As Harry moved towards the seat, someone bumped into him - quite forcefully. Harry staggered even as the person falling with him cried out. “Dammit, Blaise!”

Harry knew that voice; it was Malfoy currently barreling him over. Harry hit the floor, his tailbone meeting stone jarringly, and Malfoy tumbled down with him, their legs tangled together. Harry’s hands throbbed; he’d thrown them out behind him to take some of his added weight. He blinked open his eyes and realized Malfoy was pressed against his stomach. Which, Glamour or no, would still _feel_ like a very-large, very-pregnant belly. Malfoy’s mouth was slack with surprise and Harry reached out to grab the Slytherin’s arm, a pleading look on his face.

“Please don’t say anything...” Harry whispered urgently, his eyes searching that gobsmacked expression for any hint of malice. “ _Please_ , Malfoy...I’m begging you...”

Malfoy swallowed hard, grey eyes flitting away. Something strange passed over his face, then he shook off Harry’s touch and muttered. “Blaise tripped me. Sorry, Potter.”

Harry watched as Malfoy hurried to his seat, feeling confused and grateful. Draco Malfoy had never apologized to him before; it was unnerving. But Malfoy also wasn’t screaming about Harry’s belly, so Harry wasn’t about to complain. Wasn’t there some old saying about not looking a gift in the mouth? Or something like that...Harry thought so, anyway. So he pushed to his feet, Hermione and Ron immediately coming to his aid, and then walked over to his table. He waved off Slughorn’s whispered concern, smiling weakly at Hermione and Ron as they moved to their station, then began to grade the tests he’d been given.

He didn’t know how long Malfoy would hold his silence for, but it didn’t much matter. What would come, would come...there was no use worrying. He had enough trouble without borrowing any more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Harry parted his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the head of his lover’s cock. As Harry dragged the flat of his tongue over the smooth flesh, the man moaned softly. The vaguely-salty, sharp taste of his lover’s desire lingered on Harry’s tongue as he pursed his lips, pressed a soft kiss to the head. The man growled, a hand tightening in Harry’s hair, and Harry smirked. It wasn’t often he was the one in control; the one with the power - and he didn’t mind that at all. But when it did happen, it was lovely._

_Harry pressed another soft kiss to his lover’s heated flesh, then slowly parted his lips, letting it slide into his mouth a little at a time. When he hollowed his cheeks for the first time, Harry raised his eyes, looking up at the man he was sucking off._

_Grey eyes locked with green. Platinum-blonde hair clung damply to the man’s sweaty forehead and his mouth was slack. Harry sucked again, drinking in the sight of his lover coming undone because of him. He watched those grey eyes flutter shut..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

...and opened his own.

Harry struggled to sit up, trembling all over. He was in the hospital wing to monitor his magic level. At thirty weeks pregnant, it was dangerously low. Harry was exhausted all of the time and had been forbidden from casting any spells once he hit twenty-eight weeks, for fear of further drain. Poppy had also put him on bed rest just a few days earlier. 

Hermione jumped out of the chair she’d been curled up in, doing homework, and tried to get Harry to lay back down. Ron was napping in another chair. “Harry, stop! You need to rest! What’re you doing?”

Harry was still shaking and angry tears were blurring his vision. “I know who he is.” Harry choked out; his throat felt tight and raw, like he’d swallowed glass. “I’m going to kill him!”

Hermione shook her head, firmly pushing Harry’s shoulders back against his pillows. “No, you’re going to tell me who he is so I can fetch him and he can come lend the baby his magic.” Her voice was calm, but stern; Harry knew that tone well. “Then he’s going to answer some questions because we’ve got no idea if he knew this could happen. Remember, Harry? He might have had no idea you could become pregnant this way.”

“Does that even _matter?”_ Harry demanded, glaring up at her. “He crept into my dreams and had sex with me, Hermione! He’s _still_ creeping into my dreams! He’s _still_ doing this! So how does it make a difference if he didn’t know I could become pregnant?”

Hermione looked away, saying softly. “I’m not saying it’s right, Harry. But what if he didn’t mean any harm by this? Maybe he thought you wouldn’t remember the dreams. Or maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Until we know for sure...” She looked back at Harry and added. “He must have strong feelings for you, Harry. To not only walk in dreams, but to do so for months...he must care about you. I can’t even imagine how desperate someone has to be to use the Incubus Charm. And he’s never hurt you in your dreams, has he? So he...”

“He’s Malfoy!” Harry spat, cutting off her defense. Hermione gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as she stared at Harry in shock. “He had no right, Hermione! No one had the right, but especially not him!” The tears spilled over at last and Harry’s shoulders shook as he sobbed.

“Oh, Harry...” Hermione sank onto the bed beside him and pulled him into her arms, rubbing his back and making soft, soothing sounds. “I’m _so_ sorry. You’re right. Malfoy’s the last person I’d have expected because he’s...well, he’s _Malfoy_. I thought it might be someone who cared for you; someone who thought they couldn’t have you any other way. Not someone being cruel.”

“You don’t understand.” Harry sobbed, lifting his head from Hermione’s shoulder, still crying. “I thought it might be someone who _loved_ me. In the dreams, he’s...the way he touches me...the way he looks at me. I really thought...I’d begun to _hope_ , I mean...that if I just found him...”

Harry curled up onto his side, away from Hermione, sobbing. Biting her lip, tears springing into her own eyes, Hermione watched as Harry’s misery twisted her insides. She knew part of it was hormones, but that didn’t make it any better; it didn’t make her any less angry. Malfoy had no business toying with Harry’s heart; not even in dreams. With a cautious glance at Ron to make sure he was still asleep inside the Silencing Charm she’d put up around him, Hermione turned on her heel and stalked out of the Infirmary.

She was going to find Malfoy...and she was going to make him pay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione stormed down to the Slytherin Common Room, glaring heatedly at the wall. Then she did something she’d never expected to do. She drew her wand, cast a Patronus, and added the spell to carry a message. And though she couldn’t see it after it vanished through the stone, she knew exactly what the silver otter would say in her voice. _‘If this door is not opened for me in the next thirty seconds, I will blast it open.’_

It was a mere ten seconds later that a trembling Third Year opened the door, gaping at her. “You’re not a Slytherin!” She gasped, still shaking. “What do you want?”

“To speak with someone who is. Move.” Hermione nudged the girl aside and stomped through the doorway, into the Common Room. It looked much as Harry and Ron had described it during Second Year - black and green and leather. Once inside, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and snapped briskly. “Where is Draco Malfoy? I’ve got something to say to him.”

Blaise Zabini stood up, drawing Hermione’s eyes. “This isn’t your territory, Granger. You’ve got no authority here. And Draco’s under my protection, so...” He trailed off, smirking.

Hermione narrowed her eyes but before she could speak, Draco did from a small hallway. “Piss off, Blaise. I told you already that I don’t want your _protection_.” Draco turned his eyes to Hermione and said softly. “Is this a private something or do you want witnesses?”

Hermione let out a hiss of breath, fuming, then said in a low, dangerous voice. “I would _love_ to do this publicly, Malfoy, but that would hurt someone I care deeply for. So privacy is probably best.”

Draco inclined his head, straightening away from the wall he was leaning against and gesturing to the hallway behind him. “My dorm is this way, unless you prefer somewhere else...?”

Hermione raised her chin and marched over to Draco, who turned and led the way down the hall to his room, ignoring the murmurs from the Common Room behind him. Once they were inside, Draco said quietly. “I admit, Granger, that I expected a confrontation at some point this year, but I did not expect it to be with you.” He turned and locked eyes with her and asked. “To what do I owe this...pleasure?”

Hermione gritted her teeth, her fingers clenching around the handle of her wand. “What, you ask? I’ll tell you what, _Malfoy!_ You’ve got _some_ nerve, you know that? And you might think those stupid old pureblood laws will protect you, but I swear that if Harry wants, I’ll find a way to hang you with them! You had _no right_ to do this to him! Dreams are meant to be _private_ and you just blithely crept into Harry’s like you’ve got some right to be there and...”

“Don’t!” Draco gasped hoarsely as he sank onto the trunk at the foot of his bed. He was pale and trembling, but his silver eyes were heated and full of anger and pain. “Don’t you presume to tell me about Potter and _dreams_ , Granger, when all I dream of these days is _him!_ One spell...one silly, _stupid_ spell...”

Draco laughed hollowly, looking defeated. “I wanted one night. One single moment with him, after everything. And he wasn’t supposed to _remember_. It was meant to be _mine_ , not his. Because I...but then it _kept happening_ and I haven’t been able to make it stop. I’ve lost all control...I don’t know when it will happen anymore and it’s like _I’m_ the one dreaming and...” Draco was panting, breathing as though he’d run up Astronomy Tower, and he whispered. “He remembers?”

Hermione swallowed hard, then did her best to squash the sympathy she was feeling. “Of course he remembers! That many dreams, he was bound to remember your face eventually, wasn’t he? But whether you meant to keep doing it or not doesn’t change that you did it at all! You had no right!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Draco screamed and Hermione turned her face away, struggling to ignore the tears she’d seen in Draco’s eyes. “Salazar, Granger, don’t you think I _know?”_ His voice faded down to a whisper and he added. “I’ve got no claim, no advantage...he’s _clearly_ spoken for...but I still...” Draco let out a strangled-sounding sob and Hermione looked over in time to see him dashing tears from his cheeks before he looked up, locking their eyes again. “He _saved_ me. I ought to have died in that room. You and Weasley would have let me; you _should_ have let me. But Potter...he _saved_ me. And I...I _love_ him. And I _know_ I’ve got no right and I’m _sorry_ , okay? So just tell me how to reverse the spell and I’ll never bother your precious friend again. I swear it.”

“Never... _never_...” Hermione’s wand sparked and she let out a low, angry scream. “You miserable, worthless little bastard! You think...you think saying _sorry_ is enough? And then you...you what? You just go blithely on your way and leave Harry to deal with your mess?”

“Deal with...” Draco repeated the words in a murmur, confusion twisting his features. “My _mess?_ I don’t...I thought you wanted me to leave him alone!”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Hermione spat scathingly. “You’d just vanish, taking _none_ of the responsibility for this even though it was your spell! Did you even think, for one _second_ , about the consequences of your actions? About what this would be doing to him? He’s in the hospital wing because of you and if I’ve got to put you under Imperius, you’re going to march up there and lend your magic before your little _accident_ kills Harry and then we’ll just see about what else you’re going to do but it is damned sure not going to be walking away because I’m not letting you just....just _abandon_ them!”

“Kill...” Draco rasped the word, trembling once more, looking ready to faint. “Abandon _them?_ Granger, you’re not saying...” Draco remembered the swell of Harry’s belly the day Blaise shoved him in Potions; the press of life moving beneath Harry’s skin...and his _fury_ that some other bloke had had in real life what Draco only got in dreams. “The baby...it’s _mine?”_

“Of course it’s yours!” Hermione snapped, then she froze, her eyes wide. She’d been ranting without thought, but now she realized something. “You _knew_ he was pregnant? How? _How_ , if you didn’t know you’d done it to him, Malfoy?”

Draco let out a shaky laugh, swaying slightly. “He fell...I fell with him. Blaise pushed me. I felt...I felt his stomach...he begged me not to tell. I was _so_ angry...”Draco almost seemed to be talking to himself; his eyes were glassy and his voice was vacant. “It _can’t_ be mine...”

“Well you’re the only person Harry’s ever been with!” Hermione bit out. “So it’s got to be yours. You see what happens when you cast spells without thought? And an Incubus Charm, of all things! They are _known_ for causing pregnancy! You ought to know that!”

“Inc...incubus Charm?” Draco’s head snapped up, his gaze sharpening. “No! No, I _didn’t!_ Granger, I used a Dream-Walking Spell! One-time use, like Mind-Healers use when working with small children or the uncommunicative! I would _never_ use an Incubus Charm!”

Hermione’s mouth moved soundlessly; the recurring nature of the dreams was what had led Hermione to bypass the Dream-Walking Spell in favor of the Incubus Charm. Especially when she’d factored in the pregnancy. “But...but how could the two cross like that?”

Draco suddenly began to shake his head, mouthing the word _‘no_ ’ over and over. Hermione just watched him and after a few moments he whispered, still shaking his head. “I was...I was in the Room of Hidden Things. I was sitting there, in the remains of everything, when I cast...”

“In the...oh no...” Hermione began to shake. “The Room must have sensed your emotions and altered the magic cast to suit! Why would you _ever_ cast in that place?”

Draco’s head snapped up, anguish painted across his features. “He must hate me. I...I can’t. Granger, I can’t explain...there’s no way to! I didn’t intend...I didn’t _know_...”

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “Well, you’re coming to the Infirmary with me one way or another, Malfoy. Harry’s magic is draining quickly; the baby needs yours as well. We can worry about everything else after that’s done. But Harry...” Hermione bit her lip, then admitted. “Harry thought his dream-lover might love him. It’s why he was so upset to realize it was you...thinking as we did that you were, well, trying to hurt him. If you explain...”

“It won’t change who I am.” Draco whispered, but he stood and nodded to the door. “But you’re right about the child needing my magic. Let’s go.”

Hermione swallowed hard, bit her lip, then turned and led the way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco didn’t want to do this. But he knew Hermione was right; he didn’t have a lot of choice. So he followed Hermione around the privacy curtain, keeping his eyes on the floor. Ron’s furious voice had his head snapping up. “What the hell is ferret-face doing here?”

Draco cringed, his eyes shifting to the bed. Harry was staring at him. His beautiful face was tear-streaked and blotchy. His belly was a huge curve under the blankets. Dark circles under his eyes gave evidence to his exhaustion. Draco couldn’t quite read the emotions in those vibrant green eyes which were still shining wetly, moisture clinging to his dark, sooty lashes. Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again without speaking. There wasn’t much he could say, after all.

Instead, after shooting a glance at where Hermione was encased in a Silencing Charm with Ron, both of them clearly yelling, Draco stepped up to the side of Harry’s bed. Pressing his lips together and ignoring the wariness on Harry’s face, Draco reached out and tugged on the blanket. Harry lifted his hands, letting Draco drag the covers off of him. Draco swallowed hard, then slipped one hand under the fabric of Harry’s pajama top, which was stretched tightly over his swollen belly.

Harry’s breath hitched and his eyes fluttered shut. Draco shivered as he felt his magic reach out, curling around the life growing inside of Harry. Draco didn’t need any more proof that the baby was his. If his magic was instinctively reaching out to the baby, it was his. He glanced down at where his hand rested against Harry’s stomach. The fabric of the shirt had lifted, baring an expanse of pale skin. Draco licked his lips, his eyes locked on where their skin touched.

Draco had seen Harry’s body - every inch of it - in dreams, but _this_ body was different. He let his fingers trace over the stretch marks marring the creamy white flesh. Harry suddenly shoved Draco’s hand away, tugging his shirt down, his cheeks flushed red. Draco bit his lip and Harry glanced over at where his friends had been arguing. But Ron and Hermione had left. Harry was torn between being grateful and being annoyed; they needed to talk, but he didn’t _want_ to be alone with Draco.

Feeling his anger rising, Harry said coldly. “I look a bit different, don’t I? I suppose you didn’t want me like this, so I didn’t appear like this in the dreams, even after you knew I was pregnant.”

Draco winced. “I didn’t mean to...”

“To knock me up?” Harry bit out sharply. “No, I didn’t think you had. But it happened. What did you think that damned spell was going to do, Malfoy? Magic has consequences, just like anything! I would have thought you’d learned that by now.”

“The spell I cast didn’t do this!” Draco snapped back; he knew he was in the wrong, but he couldn’t be expected to foresee impossibilities like this occurring. “I cast a single-use Dream-Walking Spell, _not_ the Incubus Charm! The stupid Room of Requirement altered it! I had _no_ idea why the dreams weren’t stopping and I haven’t been in control in months and I certainly didn’t know you could get pregnant!”

Harry stared at Draco, his eyes narrowed, then asked. “So you only meant to come into my dreams once and you think that makes it _okay?_ You think that’s going to make me feel better?”

Draco turned his face away, his cheeks flushing. “Of course not.” Draco’s voice was soft, sad, and a little bit ashamed; he didn’t want to do this, but after everything that had happened he owed Harry the truth. “I don’t expect you to understand, Potter. You’ve never been in a position like that. Wanting someone so much that you feel like you’re going to die; knowing you can’t ever have them. Knowing you’ll never be good enough, never be worthy...knowing nothing you say or do can ever change what’s happened. I just...” Draco’s voice broke and he cleared his throat awkwardly; Potter had already seen him cry, but that didn’t make it any less horrifying this time around. “I wanted one dream. You wouldn’t have remembered it; no one would have been hurt. It wasn’t meant to be like this...it wasn’t meant to _keep_ happening!”

“And you didn’t think maybe you should have been honest with me?” Harry demanded, though he sounded more resigned than angry.

Because Harry was remembering every reverent touch, ever tender kiss, every perfect moment from their shared dreams. They were all interspersed with heat and passion and need, but that didn’t change the emotion behind them. Harry had begun to believe his dream-lover cared for him. It had been hard not to, when he looked at everything he remembered. And he felt such a connection to that man - to _Draco Malfoy_ , apparently - that it was hard to keep being angry. Especially when Draco wasn’t being snide or smug, but was instead looking heartbroken and miserable.

“I thought you were with someone else!” Draco retorted, pain lacing his words. “I thought you were with that Weasley chit, but then when Blaise shoved me into you and I felt the baby...I never thought it was _mine!_ I thought...Merlin, I thought...”

Harry stared in shock as a tear rolled down Draco’s cheek and Harry whispered. “You thought I’d been with another man. That I was dating some bloke and he’d gotten me pregnant. Were you _jealous?”_

“Yes!” Draco screamed, fury rolling off of him in waves. “Is that what you want to hear, Potter? That I was pathetically jealous of someone else having you, even though I never could? That I wanted to find out who he was, just so I could properly hate him? That I couldn’t _bear_ to imagine your body rounded with child because it was some other man who’d planted his seed in you and not me? Are you bloody-well happy now?”

Harry licked his lips and said breathlessly. “I’m not sure _happy_ is the right word...but I don’t think I’m angry enough to kill you anymore.”

Draco blinked at Harry, uncertain now of what he was supposed to do or say. “You...I don’t understand. You hate me...don’t you?”

Harry shrugged, resting a hand on the swell of his stomach and rubbing lightly. “I don’t know.” He admitted it a bit sheepishly. “I did, once. Now...I don’t know. Because I feel like I don’t know _you_. But I know that I felt connected to the man in my dreams. And he’s you. Or at least he’s a part of you. And we’re having a baby, so...”

Draco took a shaky breath, then asked in a rush. “You mean you aren’t going to keep the child from me? We both know you could. With my past, I mean. It wouldn’t be hard. I just...I assumed you would.”

“Maybe you should stop assuming so much.” Harry suggested, dropping his eyes from Draco’s as his cheeks turned pink. “Are...are the dreams going to stop at some point?”

“I can stop them at any time now that I know what happened with the spell.” Draco tried to sound reassuring, but his insides were twisting. As much as it had been torture to touch Harry in dreams and not real life, he didn’t like the idea of losing that connection.

“Oh.” Harry’s voice came out small and Draco’s breath caught in his throat. Harry chewed on his lip, then asked softly. “Were you planning to do it soon?”

Draco wondered at the strange hesitancy in Harry’s voice, then said. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought yet, Potter. I just assu…thought you’d want it done as soon as possible.”

Harry shrugged, his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink, and stammered. “I don’t…that is…there’s no rush. I mean, don’t feel like you have to put off your homework or anything to get it done. It can wait until…until you’ve got time. Or whatever.”

Draco reached out tentatively and touched Harry’s cheek. Harry looked up from where he’d been staring at his hands and Draco leaned down before he could think too much about it. Their lips met, barely touching, then Draco straightened up. Harry was staring up at him, eyes wide and mouth slack, breathing rather heavily for such a chaste kiss. But Draco was feeling a bit shaky himself. They stared at each other for a moment, then Harry’s tongue darted out, moistening his lips.

Draco drew in a shuddering breath, then managed to say. “I have…things…to do. I’ll come back. Soon. To give the baby more magic. And…and to…to talk. About…this. Us. Whatever.” Harry nodded and Draco turned to go, pausing just at the edge of the curtain to ask in a whisper. “The baby…is it a boy or a girl?”

Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should answer or not, then whispered. “It’s a boy.”

Draco didn’t turn around; he just nodded and disappeared around the privacy curtain. Harry collapsed back against his pillows, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what, exactly, he was supposed to do now. He brought his hand up to his mouth, lightly touching his lips, and smiled. Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Draco’s lips lingered on the full curve of Harry’s belly, following the lines of Harry’s stretchmarks. Harry blushed and tugged lightly on Draco’s hair, muttering. “Stop it...I’m as big as a cow.”_

_Draco grinned and resisted Harry’s tugging, dragging the flat of his tongue over Harry’s stomach, making Harry squirm. “So? You’ve got our son in there. Nothing could be more beautiful to me.”_

_Harry flushed a darker red and Draco laughed softly, then shifted on the bed so he was lying on his back beside Harry. Then he quirked an eyebrow and drawled. “But since you’re so big right now, we get to try something different. Assuming you’re up for it...”_

_Harry moaned softly, letting his eyes roam over Draco’s lithe body, stopping at his cock. He knew Draco wanted him to ride him, which was something Harry had never done before...but Draco was right about his belly getting in the way of their typical face-to-face action. So, with a trembling breath, Harry straddled Draco, pausing for a moment to let Draco reach between them and position his cock. Then Draco’s hands settled on Harry’s hips, helping to balance him as he slowly lowered himself onto Draco’s erection._

_Once he was fully seated, Harry paused for a moment. He didn’t need to - his body accommodated Draco with ease - but it seemed appropriate. With a self-deprecating smile, Harry said shyly. “You do realize that if we ever do this for real it won’t be this easy, right? Virgin and all...”_

_Draco nodded, his eyes somber, and let his hands drift over Harry’s belly. “Yes, I know. Granger pointed it out to me. But serious talk is for real life. For now...just dream with me.”_

_Harry took a breath, smiled, and began to move..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up feeling relaxed and well-rested. Which was a good sign. Draco had come to the Infirmary for the last three days, lending magic to the baby. Harry’s own levels were rising - slowly, but steadily - and Poppy seemed pleased with their progress. Ron wasn’t speaking to Harry - and he was only fighting with Hermione - but Harry hoped he would calm down eventually. He had a temper, yes, but Ron was a good friend and Harry figured he’d come round in the end.

Hermione peeked her head around the curtain and smiled. “Hey, Harry. How are you feeling this morning? You don’t look as pale.”

Harry grinned back, pushing himself up to sitting. “I feel good. Not tired, for once. Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

“Since it’s Saturday, not really.” Hermione sat in her usual chair, pulling her feet up onto the cushion as she got comfortable. “Even I’m not _that_ dedicated.”

“Oh.” Harry rolled his eyes at himself. “I didn’t realize what day it was. I think it’s easier to lose track when you’re not in class every day, you know?” Hermione nodded, smiling at him, and Harry asked. “Hey, so I had another dream last night and I was wondering if...”

“You mean Malfoy hasn’t stopped them yet?” Hermione demanded sharply, her eyes narrowing. “I thought he was going to do that straight away!”

Harry blushed, dropping his eyes. “Well, I told him there wasn’t any rush...” When Hermione’s eyebrows winged up and her mouth fell open, he rushed on. “And that’s not what I was getting at. I was _aware_ in the dream, Hermione. And it occurred to me that I’ve had some control before this. Not a lot, but like...in the beginning, it was like I was watching myself. And the longer it’s been going on, the more I felt like I was actually in control of myself. And last night I was _definitely_ fully aware. I knew it was a dream, I knew it was Draco, my body was pregnant - though I think that was his doing, not mine - and we talked. About the baby, about it being a dream...”

“That’s really odd, Harry.” Hermione had tugged a small journal-type-notebook out of her bag as well as a biro and begun scribbling. Although she did her homework with quill and ink, for emergency jot-downs, she found Muggle methods easier. “It should only be the caster who has control.”

“But Draco’s not the caster either.” Harry pointed out, frowning. “I mean, not really, right? He cast a different spell. It was the Room of Requirement that cast the Incubus Charm.”

Hermione’s pen froze, then she began writing almost frantically. “That’s actually a _really_ good point. And it explains why Malfoy said he’d lost control of the dreams. The Room must have been slowly shifting the balance of control from him to you. The question is _why_.”

“I didn’t have _full_ control.” Harry felt the need to point this out. “I mean, I can’t have. Draco knew it was a dream as well when we talked. And I didn’t make my dream-self pregnant. I’m pretty sure that that was him as well.”

“Hmmm...” Hermione pursed her lips, still writing although more slowly. “Okay, so the Room has decided you _both_ are allowed to control the dreams. That’s intriguing. I wonder if that means it will take both of you - _and_ the Room, of course - to end the spell. Also, Harry...” Hermione looked up and quirked an eyebrow, asking curiously. “When did you start calling him _Draco_ instead of Malfoy?”

Harry bit his lip, looking away. “Oh, well...I mean, we’ve been having...not _really_ of course, which you know, but still. And I’m pregnant. And he’s not been an arse all year. And...” Harry peeked over at Hermione and was relieved to see she looked amused and fondly exasperated, rather than angry. “It just seemed weird to keep calling him Malfoy, you know?”

“Is that the only reason? Because of, you know, the baby and the dreams?” Hermione’s voice was soft, but gently teasing as well. “Not that those aren’t valid reasons. I just wondered if, maybe, there was something more there. I got the feeling - from both of you, mind - that there could be.”

“I don’t know.” Harry admitted, picking at a thread on the blanket. “I’d _like_ for there to be. I mean, I think I would. I don’t know him, really. Not like I should, considering. But I want to. And he...” Harry looked at Hermione from under his eyelashes and admitted quietly. “He _kissed_ me.”

Hermione gasped, leaning towards Harry, her pen and notebook falling to the floor, forgotten for the moment. “No! Harry, when? You mean in real life, right? I’m assuming you’ve kissed in dreams before, after all. But that’s different than for real. Tell me everything!”

Harry blushed, but grinned. “It...well, it wasn’t much. Just a peck, but...not. More of a brush. Real soft and kind of sweet. And, er, the other day. The day he found out about the baby. Just before he left.” Harry ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Is it silly that I’m so excited about it? I feel like such a girl.” Hastily, he added. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Hermione replied, waving it off dismissively. “And I don’t think it’s silly at all. I think it’s rather sweet, actually. And, between the two of us, I think you two make a perfectly lovely couple.” Hermione wiggled her eyebrows and added. “That baby’s going to be absolutely gorgeous; it’s got fabulous DNA to pick from. No pun intended.”

Harry let out a startled laugh, rolling his eyes. “Thanks, Hermione. You’ve been way cooler about this than I had a right to expect. You know, considering.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “Yes, well. Regardless of anything else, he _did_ save us at the Manor. And I saw how he reacted when he found out the baby was his. I don’t think _anyone_ can fake that kind of emotion. So it’s sort of hard to be angry when I can see how he feels about you.”

“Thank you, Granger, for that scathing review of my hypothetical acting skills.” Draco’s sarcastic drawl alerted them to the Slytherin’s presence at the edge of the privacy curtain. Then he added. “And thank you, genuinely, for not leaving Potter to face this alone. He’s right; you could have been a terror about this.”

Hermione laughed a little nervously, then gave an awkward shrug. “I try to leave the melodramatic fits of temper to Ron. He’s better at them.” Another nervous laugh when Draco snorted softly in amusement, then she added. “I, ah...I should go. I’m sure you two want to talk. Oh, and Harry, I’ll, ah...I’ll look into that thing we were discussing. With the spell. Bye!”

Harry watched fondly as Hermione shoved her things into her bag, giving him a quick squeeze and a pat to his belly before waving almost erratically to Draco and running off. Draco watched as well, then asked amusedly. “Is she always that...hectic, Potter?”

“Er, no, actually.” Harry admitted. He gave Draco a tentative smile and explained. “I think she’s just not sure how to act around you yet. She’ll calm down some once she’s more used to you.”

“Oh, goodie.” The sardonic lilt to Draco’s drawl would have set Harry’s teeth on edge once-upon-a-time, but now it just told Harry the other teen was nervous. That was confirmed when Draco muttered. “And what about Weasley? Has he had anything more to say on the subject?”

“Not yet.” Harry huffed out an irritated breath. “He’ll probably be a right prat for another week or two at least. Maybe a little more or less, depending on how much Hermione screams at him or if Molly gets involved at all.” He noticed the disdain on Draco’s face and added quite firmly. “He’s a good person, you know. His temper is fierce but he’s always come through for me in the end.”

Draco nodded, dropping his eyes. “I don’t doubt that, Potter. You seem to engender a very special sort of loyalty from those around you. You’re quite lucky. Not everyone gets friends like that.”

Harry didn’t know how to reply to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he patted the mattress beside his hip and said softly. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Draco did so, very cautiously sitting beside the Gryffindor and slipping his hand beneath Harry’s shirt, resting it lightly on Harry’s stomach so the baby could borrow magic. Once he was settled, Harry gave Draco another careful smile. “I was just telling Hermione that we don’t really know each other that well. I was sort of hoping we could...you know...fix that. Tell each other stuff about ourselves. Or something.”

Draco blinked, then smiled slowly. “I’ve got no objection to swapping stories, Potter, but I think you’ll find we know each other better than you might think. For instance, what is my favorite color?”

Harry opened his mouth, intending to say green, but stopped. Other than his Slytherin uniform pieces, Harry didn’t think he could recall Draco wearing much green. So, a bit hesitantly, he said. “It’s purple, isn’t it? A dark purple.”

Draco’s smile deepened and he drawled. “See? You didn’t even know you knew that. Yours is orange. But not that atrocious neon-orange. A deep, rich orange. A lovely autumn color. You ought to wear it more, actually, as it’s a good color on you.”

Harry stared at Draco in shock; he didn’t think _anyone_ knew his favorite color. Suspicious, he asked. “My favorite Quidditch team?”

“Appleby Arrows.” Draco didn’t even hesitate before answering. “Though you pretend you’re a Canon fan because of Weasley’s preference for that miserable team, I’ve seen you go head-to-head with some of the Wasps’ fans over Quidditch. Only Arrows’ fans get that heated over old games with Wasps’ fans.”

“Okay, true.” Harry thought for a moment, then said. “Yours is the Tutshill Tornados. I’ve seen the double-T symbol on your things before.”

“Yes.” Draco grinned widely now and added. “Tutshill wasn’t too far from the Manor, so when I was younger Father took me to all of their home games and sometimes even to their practices. I’ve been a fan for the whole of my life.”

Harry thought for a moment, then asked. “Favorite dessert?”

Again, Draco didn’t hesitate. “Treacle tart. You inhale it like it’s going to sprout legs and run off the table if you aren’t quick enough. Mine?”

“You like anything sweet.” Harry said without thought, adding. “But those cookies your mother sends seem to be your favorite. They’re the only thing from your care packages I’ve never seen you share.”

“Red velvet cookies.” Draco admitted, looking shameless. “And you’re right; I don’t share them. I’m afraid I’m terribly greedy with them. Tea - you take yours with plenty of milk and sugar, until it’s hardly fair to call it tea anymore.”

Now it was Harry’s turn not to hesitate; this he _knew_ that he knew. “You don’t drink Earl Grey, only breakfast tea...and only black. But you prefer coffee. No milk or sugar, but vanilla creamer instead.” He blushed and added. “In our dreams, you taste like it...”

Draco’s eyes widened and his breath stuttered out on an uneven laugh. “Oh. I hadn’t realized that.” He cleared his throat. “But there, you see? We do know each other. At least to an extent.”

Harry considered this for a moment; he did have to concede the point to Draco. They _did_ know all sorts of things about each other; things Harry had never even realized he knew. Still, he wanted to know more. So he smiled and said. “Okay, so we know some things. That’s great, but not enough. Tell me something I _don’t_ know about you.”

Draco studied Harry’s face for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Alright, Potter. Something you don’t know about me.” Embarrassment and amusement gleamed in his eyes as he said. “I am absolutely terrified of peacocks.”

Harry let out a startled little laugh. “What? You’re taking the mickey! That was a joke, right? I mean, they’re just birds! I don’t see what’s so scary about that. And you own some. Shouldn’t you be used to them?”

“They aren’t _just_ birds.” Draco rolled his eyes, but he seemed relaxed and amused rather than annoyed, though his pink cheeks gave voice to his embarrassment. “I can assure you that they are vicious. And when angered or startled, they let out the most awful sound you can imagine. It’s enough to scare anyone right out of their skin, which is why Father keeps them, of course. They’re lovely, but they’re also walking alarms. And they are _not_ timid birds. Not in the slightest.” Draco wrinkled his nose up, looking adorably young all of a sudden, and added. “They chased me quite often when I was small.”

“Awww...” Harry couldn’t help making the sound, earning him a nasty look from Draco. Harry reached up and patted Draco’s blonde hair lightly, cooing. “Poor baby; chased by the big, bad birds! Do you need me to protect you?”

Draco snorted, batting Harry’s hand away. “You’re terribly cruel, I swear. Here I am, telling you something you didn’t know, just as you asked, and you mock me!”

Harry snickered; Draco wasn’t angry, just amused and a little exasperated, so Harry wasn’t worried. He batted his eyelashes jokingly at Draco and said. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll tell you something you don’t know about me.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and drawled smoothly. “Good luck with that, Potter. I’m quite certain there’s not much anyone doesn’t know about you, let alone something _I_ don’t. But please, feel free to try.”

Harry’s eyebrows pulled together as annoyance washed over him. “The media’s rarely right, Draco. So you and everyone else doesn’t know as much as you might think.” And with annoyance driving his words, he added sharply. “And would it kill you to call me Harry? Given the circumstances, calling each other Potter and Malfoy seems ridiculously childish.”

Draco’s mouth thinned, his lips pressed tightly together, then he nodded briskly. “Fine, _Harry_. My apologies for thinking I might know something about you. Please, tell me.” The snark in his voice was very-nearly a tangible thing.

“You don’t need to be sarcastic all of the time.” Harry bit out from between clenched teeth. “Is that like a defense mechanism or something? Because you _seriously_ need to work on that.”

Draco stood up abruptly. “Clearly this exercise is futile. I’ll come back tomorrow to give the baby another bit of magic. Excuse me.”

Harry watched, annoyed and hurt, as Draco turned on his heel and disappeared around the privacy curtain without another word. That hadn’t gone at all the way he’d planned.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Harry pulled away from Draco, turning his head from the kiss. Draco let out an aggrieved sound, his shoulders slumping. “You’re going to be pissy because of earlier, aren’t you?”_

_“No.” Harry shook his head to emphasize this fact. “No, that would be stupid. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry. I didn’t mean to start a fight.”_

_“And you couldn’t have said that in the morning?” Draco growled, leaning in to nuzzle Harry’s neck. He nipped lightly at the tender flesh below Harry’s jaw when the Gryffindor’s head fell back in abandon. “I mean, this is so much more enjoyable than talking, isn’t it?”_

_Harry laughed breathlessly, then moaned when Draco’s mouth moved upwards. That wicked tongue teased the curve of his ear, teeth nipping lightly at the cartilage. “Yeah, well...I feel like I should do something to make up for it.”_

_Draco looked into Harry’s eyes, seeing the wicked promise gleaming there. But instead of taking Harry up on it, he murmured. “Tell me a secret, then.”_

_Harry’s mouth opened but he said nothing. Draco pressed closer to him, their sweat-slicked-skin pressing heatedly together, and whispered into his ear. “Come on, Harry...tell me a secret.”_

_“I...oh...” Harry’s breath hitched, his back arching, as their arousals lined up; the friction was lovely, but Draco’s weight was preventing Harry from rocking up into it the way he wanted to and the Slytherin seemed determined to keep the pace slow. “Draco, I...”_

_Draco chuckled darkly in Harry’s ear, moving his hips a little faster for just a moment before resuming his languid pace. Then he repeated. “Tell me a secret.”_

_Feeling desperate, his nails digging into Draco’s shoulders, Harry whined. “I...Draco, I...fuck!” Harry turned his face away, panting, then managed brokenly. “I think...maybe...I could...love you. Easily. Very easily.”_

_Draco angled his head, capturing Harry’s lips and grinding down against him, hard and fast. As Harry’s body sped toward release, he wondered if he’d done the right thing...or just made a terrible mistake._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Poppy smiled and patted Harry’s stomach lightly. “Well, you’re both doing just perfectly, Harry. Your magic levels are greatly improved; better than what I was expecting so soon! Mr. Malfoy must be lending a significant amount of his own magic for your levels to have risen this quickly.”

“That’s good, right?” Harry fidgeted on the bed; the baby was pressing on his bladder and he _really_ had to use the toilet. “I mean, that my magic’s back where it should be.”

“It’s very good, Harry. You’re well enough to resume classes, I dare say, and be released from here.” She patted his shoulder and added with a little nudge. “And you may go to the bathroom. I can tell from your squirming that he’s giving you some trouble there.”

“Thanks.” Harry popped up from the bed with a little laugh. “I feel like that’s all I do these days: eat, sleep, and use the loo.”

“All perfectly normal.” Poppy assured him as she made some notes in his chart. “Now go on and hurry back so we can finish up. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to Gryffindor Tower.”

Harry walked as quickly as he could manage to the bathroom, sighing in relief as he emptied his bladder. It was annoying to have to piss all the time, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. Poppy insisted he needed to take in plenty of fluids. As Harry wandered back into the main room of the hospital wing, rubbing small circles on his stomach, he murmured softly to the baby. “I wish you’d sit just a little higher in there, so I could spend a bit less time in the loo.”

“Talking to him?” Draco’s soft voice brought Harry’s head snapping up, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve never quite understood why people do that...”

Poppy, who was still flipping through Harry’s chart, answered. “It helps the baby to learn your voice. When he’s born, he’ll remember the sound and find it soothing. You ought to be talking to him as well.” She gave him a stern look. “I expect you to accept an equal share of that child’s care, you know. We _all_ do.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to blush, but his chin came up stubbornly. “Of course I intend to. That child is the Malfoy heir; I’m hardly going to just walk away. He’ll need to be taught how to handle an estate and fortune of the size he’ll one day inherit, after all.”

Harry shook his head. “You’re acting like he’s property or something, Malfoy. A duty or responsibility. If that’s how you’re thinking of him, maybe the less you’ve got to do with him the better.” He smiled wanly at Poppy and asked. “What’s next?”

“Just one last thing, dear. We need to give a little check with imaging, to make sure his lungs are developing as they should and to help us estimate a time for the delivery.” She chuckled as Harry lay back down on the bed, adding. “We wouldn’t want to pull the little darling too early, but with the strain of male pregnancy we want to schedule it for as soon as it’s safe.”

Draco didn’t leave, but he didn’t speak again as Poppy used the proper spells to pull up an image of the baby; it hovered in the air above Harry’s stomach. Harry watched as his son twisted and turned, feeling the answering ripples of movement inside him. He didn’t quite understand what Poppy was checking, so he simply left her to it and enjoyed watching his son. To Harry, he looked perfect; little fingers and an adorable profile and, of course, the proof that the baby was a boy. Harry watched with a little smile as the child brought his hand to his mouth and sucked on his thumb.

“I didn’t realize they did that before birth...” Draco murmured from directly next to Harry; he sounded awed and his eyes were glued to the image.

Poppy glanced over with a smile. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Unborn babies do all sorts of things. And your son is quite active. Harry’s tracked his movements some for my records and he seems to be quite the little gymnast in there. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“Er, yeah. I guess.” Harry chewed on his lip, then glanced up at Draco. “You can feel it if you like. He’s never really moved much during the magic transfer, I know, but if you’d like to feel him move...I mean, since he’s awake and all right now...”

Draco nodded and placed both hands on Harry’s stomach, over his clothing so his magic wouldn’t try to transfer and possibly halt the child’s movements. “Oh...” Draco breathed the word in amazement as Harry’s stomach rippled under his hands. Then the baby kicked out - Harry watched it on the imaging - and Draco jumped as the force of it startled him. “He’s strong!”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Harry said, smiling a little more easily. “He kicks me all the time.”

“He looks like he’s developing just as he should be.” Poppy broke in, drawing both of their attention as she set Harry’s chart aside. “If it’s agreeable to you - and he stays on schedule - I’ll get the delivery scheduled for early in May.”

“That sounds fine to me.” Harry replied, smiling brightly at her. “And it’s still fine if the baby is born here at the school, right?”

“What?” Draco looked stunned. “Why would the baby be born here? Harry, you should be at St. Mungo’s for the delivery! What if something goes wrong?”

Poppy clicked her tongue, still smiling. “Now, now, Mr. Malfoy; none of that. Harry is perfectly healthy and everything should go perfectly. I’m also arranging to have a Healer from St. Mungo’s be present, since male pregnancies are always a bit more complicated.”

Draco nodded, seeming slightly appeased, and Harry asked eagerly. “So if everything is good, that means I can go, right? No more being stuck here?”

Poppy laughed, and chided. “No, you’re not confined any longer, Harry, but you need to take it easy! Also, now that Mr. Malfoy has been found, you should reconsider revealing your condition. You know the other students will be wondering about your stay in here and once the baby is born it will all become known. It might be best to do it on _your_ terms. Less-stressful.”

“Of course.” Harry murmured, looking down. “I...I’ll think about it. I know you and the Headmistress wanted me to, but I...” Harry glanced up to see Poppy looking at him sternly and quickly dropped his eyes again, saying softly. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

A few minutes later, with his Glamour fully in place once more, Harry and Draco stepped out of the hospital wing. Harry was refusing to look at Draco and the Slytherin had a feeling he knew why. So after glancing around to ensure no students were loitering nearby - Although really, why would they be? - he touched Harry’s arm and said. “I’m not going to make a big deal about last night, you know. What you said, I mean...I don’t plan to...to push you or anything.”

Harry nodded, still not looking at Draco. Draco struggled to think of something to say; something to keep the Gryffindor near him and talking. Finally, he blurted out. “We should name the baby Antares.”

Harry’s head came up at that, an incredulous look on his face. “Why in the world would I want to name him _Antares_ , of all things? Where did you even come up with that?”

“It’s a star.” Draco said defensively, stubbornness bringing his chin up a little higher. “It’s a tradition in my family. Antares is one of the four royal stars, which is why I suggested it. Although I like Regulus as well, which is also a royal star...”

“Yeah, the Blacks do like stars…” Harry murmured, looking sad. Draco was puzzled for a moment until he remembered that his mother’s cousin – Sirius Black – had been Harry’s godfather. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Harry spoke before he could. “I suppose Antares isn’t _awful_. But I have a fondness for Regulus, actually. That was Sirius’ brother’s name. He was a good man.”

“Oh?” Draco took a step closer to Harry, intrigued. “I don’t know much about either of them. Would you mind telling me what they were like?”

Harry’s lips curved softly; almost sadly. “Sirius was amazing. He was an Animagi and he loved playing pranks and he had a giant, flying motorcycle. He was funny and sweet and strong and daring. People always say I’m the perfect Gryffindor, but I think Sirius was. It was effortless for him; being brash and rushing into things and laughing at danger. He died laughing, in the middle of battling Death Eaters.” Harry paused for a moment, then added. “I loved him. Very, very much. And he loved me.”

Draco swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat; the way Harry spoke of his godfather was heartbreaking. Not knowing what else to do, Draco said quietly. “I’m sorry he died.”

Harry coughed softly, then said. “I didn’t know Regulus personally, but from what I’ve heard he…well, he was a lot like you. He joined the Death Eaters for all the wrong reasons – power and family loyalty and Pureblood nonsense.” Draco flinched; that didn’t sound reassuring in the slightest. But Harry waited in silence until Draco met his eyes, then continued. “He quickly realized the truth; that Voldemort was a madman. That he had made a mistake. And in the end, he did the right thing. He _died_ doing the right thing. The same way you did the right thing.”

Draco laughed hollowly, looking away again. “I didn’t do the right thing, Harry. I have _never_ done the right thing. I have always done what was best for myself and my parents. I wasn’t strong enough to do the right thing. Not everyone is, you know.”

“I do know.” Harry told him firmly. “I saw you lower your wand on the Astronomy Tower that night. You wouldn’t have killed Dumbledore; you _couldn’t_. And you could have identified me at the Manor – we both know you knew it was me – but you _didn’t_. And you didn’t try to kill me in the Room of Requirement, even though your friends were encouraging you. You’re not a murderer, Draco. And you might not be what people think of when they imagine a good person, but you’re _not_ evil.”

Draco took a trembling breath; everything in him seemed poised on the edge of shattering. He locked eyes with Harry’s – silver to green – and he saw the conviction there. Harry meant every word he was saying. When he looked at Draco, he didn’t see a Death Eater. He didn’t see the faint remnants of the Dark Mark scarring Draco’s arm or the horrible things Draco had done to spare himself as much pain as he could. He didn’t see a coward, or a villain, or even a Malfoy. He saw _Draco_. A boy, like himself, who had done things no child should ever have to do. And maybe the reasons were different, and maybe Draco’s choices had been bad, but Harry saw that they had cost Draco…and that Draco had drawn a line. A line he hadn’t crossed, no matter the risk or the possible consequences. Draco had _never_ taken a life.

And even if most of the world refused to see the good in Draco, _Harry_ did.

Harry gasped as Draco shoved him up against the wall. His stomach prevented them from being pressed tightly together, but Draco’s height compensated enough for him to capture Harry’s lips. He devoured the Gryffindor’s mouth, his tongue thrusting inside to explore what he had only known in dreams. Harry’s hands came up, clutching at Draco’s shoulders. Harry tipped his head slightly, rocking up onto his toes to deepen the kiss further; he wanted to be as close to Draco as possible.

One of Draco’s hands was curled around the side of Harry’s neck, his thumb stroking almost-possessively up and down the front of Harry’s throat. It made Harry feel intensely vulnerable, but he didn’t mind; it was also incredibly hot. Draco’s other hand was settled on what was once the curve of Harry’s waist. That hand slipped under the hem of Harry’s shirt, his fingers stroking Harry’s side while his palm pressed against the full curve of Harry’s belly. Harry shuddered as Draco’s magic rippled over him and his back arched.

Draco broke the kiss on a breathless laugh when Harry’s arching nearly knocked him over; his son really did complicate things. He rested his forehead against Harry’s, panting heavily, his breath moving in hot, damp burst over Harry’s face. Harry made a soft whining sound of displeasure, his nails biting into Draco’s skin even through his shirt as his fingers clenched on Draco’s shoulders. He wanted this; he wanted _Draco_. Not just in dreams, but for real.

Draco opened his mouth to suggest they find someplace more private than a corridor when he heard a horrified gasp. He jerked backwards instantly, but Harry and he were still tangled together and the abrupt motion nearly brought them both crashing to the floor. Harry cried out even as Draco’s hands steadied him, though only barely. Trembling, Harry turned to see who had spotted them. He cringed when he realized who it was; he had been half-hoping it was a First or Second Year who might be intimidated or cajoled into silence on what they might have seen.

Both students were returning Eighth Years. One was a Slytherin girl; Georgina Runcorn. Harry didn’t know if Draco knew her or not, but he didn’t. He did, however, know the Hufflepuff boy at her side. Zacharias Smith; the reason for Harry’s cringing. Zacharias wasn’t known for his kindness, or even his loyalty, and Harry suspected bloodlines were the reason for his House-placement. Harry bit his lip, glancing at Draco from under his lashes to see how the Slytherin was handling this. Harry would take his cue from Draco on this – if Draco wanted to try to bluff their way out, then Harry would go along with it.

Draco looked calm and collected and his tone was polite, if not precisely friendly. “Georgie; what a pleasant surprise. How are you? Not sick, I hope, though I can’t imagine why else you’d be this near to the Infirmary. Of course, you look well enough.” Well, at least Draco seemed to know her.

Georgina smiled and it was ice-cold, doing nothing to alleviate the hard look in her blue eyes. She tucked a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear and purred darkly. “Draco, darling. I’m just picking up a little Headache Cure; you know I get them. You’re looking well yourself, though I can see your presence here has more to do with Potter’s health than your own.”

Zach snorted softly and Harry’s eyes widened before he looked down. Fuck. His Glamour had dropped at some point; probably when Draco’s magic had washed over him, if Harry had to guess. Which meant his condition was quite obvious. His cheeks flushed and he glanced over at Draco again, who didn’t look the least bit flustered. Harry tried to take heart from that fact, but found he couldn’t stop shaking. His attention was drawn by the mean look on Zach’s face.

“Smith.” Harry said his name softly, ignoring the way his voice wavered. When he was sure he had the Hufflepuff’s attention, he continued. “Whatever the Prophet will give you to make my condition front-page news…” Harry’s mind raced: threats, bribes, pleas…finally, he shook his head and said. “I hope you spend it wisely.” Then he touched Draco’s arm and murmured. “Come on, Draco. Smith’s personality irritates me at the best of times. I’d like to go before I feel the need to hex him.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow, then smirked. “Of course, Harry.” He turned to lead Harry away, then paused and glanced back. “Oh and Georgie…”

Georgina raised an eyebrow in turn and asked loftily. “Yes, Draco?”

Draco lowered his eyelashes, smiling with saccharine sweetness, and drawled. “When your little boyfriend is spinning tales for the paper…remember what you owe me.”

When Georgina paled, he added. “You know the sort of press I like, don’t you, Georgie? Something to keep in mind…” Then he winked and turned his back on her, placing a protective hand on the small of Harry’s back and telling him. “Come on then, love. Let’s get you somewhere you can rest. Madam Pomfrey doesn’t want you taxing yourself.”

Harry glanced back once, to see Georgina whispering furiously to Zacharias, then they turned a corner and Harry lost sight of them. As they made their way towards Gryffindor Tower, Harry still shaking slightly, he asked Draco curiously. “What does Georgina Runcorn owe you?”

“Last year, when you broke into the Ministry…you impersonated her uncle.” Draco explained, shaking his head ruefully. “Clever, by the way. Albert Runcorn was a good choice. But the Carrows used any excuse to turn their wands on us, or to make us turn on each other. I asked Pansy and Millicent to keep an eye on Georgina and to help keep her safe, at least while she was in Slytherin territory. After all, it was hardly her fault she shared blood with someone you’d found a way to use.”

“Oh.” Harry shook his head, saying quietly. “And you worry you’re not a good person? You had no reason to protect her. She’s clearly not a friend. And you didn’t have a lot of power left last year; I wasn’t here, but even I know that. Yet you used some of it to keep her as safe as you could.” Harry glanced up at the blonde as they neared the Tower and added. “You really are making it very easy to care about you.”

Draco’s lips twitched up at the corners and his cheeks turned pink. “Yes, well. Georgina wasn’t hard like that until last year, you know. She was always very quiet; very sweet. It didn’t seem right, letting her get hurt. I’m sorry she’s changed the way she has. Zacharias isn’t helping matters, either. He belongs in my House, not in Hufflepuff.”

Harry laughed softly. “Yeah, tell me about it. Smith and I have never gotten along.” Harry shrugged his shoulders, then touched his stomach lightly. “What did you mean; when you told her she knew what sort of press you like?”

“That she needs to put a positive spin on this whole thing for me.” Draco admitted shamelessly. “I don’t know how she’ll do it, mind you, but I imagine the papers will announce that we’ve been in love for years and were kept apart by the war and my family and now, at long last, we’re together and starting a family.” Draco looked suddenly uncertain. “I should have asked you, of course, but I didn’t want to show a moment of weakness or uncertainty in front of them. I know you weren’t thrilled with the idea of announcing your pregnancy to everyone, but since it was already out…”

“It’s fine.” Harry soothed immediately as they stopped in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. “I don’t think I ever would have been ready to do it myself. I don’t like talking to reporters. At least it’s done now and I don’t have to worry about it anymore.” He patted his stomach and added. “And now I don’t have to keep trying to hide this. It really was difficult.”

Draco nodded, dropping his eyes again. Harry glanced at the Fat Lady, whose eyes looked ready to pop out of her head, then said hesitantly. “I’d invite you in, but I don’t know if…if you’re ready for that. To face my House, I mean. It might be better if they didn’t find out about all of this all with you standing right there. Easier, I mean.”

Draco nodded again, not looking up. “I’ll leave you here, then.” He said softly. Then he looked up, reaching out and cupping Harry’s cheek, leaning in to brush their lips softly together. “I’ll see you…”

“At dinner.” Harry promised breathlessly, smiling up at Draco. “I imagine most of the school will know by then, so we can…we can eat together. If you wanted.”

“Okay. Until dinner, then.” Draco brushed another soft kiss over Harry’s lips, then turned and walked away, knowing Harry’s eyes were on him.

Harry did, indeed, watch Draco walk away. When the blonde was finally out of sight, Harry turned back to the portrait and murmured. “Valor.”

The Fat Lady swung open and Harry climbed through, ignoring her demands that he explain what she’d just witnessed. Instead, he steeled himself to face his House.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_“It’s getting better…” Draco murmured, pulling Harry snugly against his side. Harry curled up on his side, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder and draping one leg over Draco’s thighs. Draco’s arm was securely around Harry’s slender waist. Draco stroked his hand down Harry’s side, smiling when Harry’s stomach blossomed under his touch, forcing Harry to shift slightly so he wasn’t crushing it between them._

_Harry whined in annoyance. “I wish you wouldn’t do that…” He grumbled, referring to the way Draco had manipulated his dream-form into reflecting his real body, but he nuzzled Draco’s shoulder where his head rested. “And yeah, I guess it is.”_

_It had been a month since Georgina and Zacharias had caught them together, resulting in everyone learning of the pregnancy. They had managed to keep the details – such as the spell-induced dreams and Harry’s virginity – out of the papers and, though Draco still got the occasional Howler, things were settling down. Draco’s parents had presented a united, supportive front for their son, which painted them in a much better light than the war had and a few days after everything had been revealed Ron had grudgingly accepted that Draco Malfoy was going to be a major part of Harry’s life._

_And though he and Draco were intimate in each of their dreams, Harry’s virginity remained intact in the real world. Harry didn’t mind; he wanted to be back to his normal-self the first time, not struggling to work around an enormous belly. But he savored their time together in dreams and he knew he would be sorry when they finally ended the spell, breaking this special connection between them. It was something he’d been thinking about and now he found he couldn’t keep silent any longer._

_“Draco…I don’t want to lose this.” Harry often found it easier to discuss things with Draco when they were dreaming and alone, rather than in real life when they were surrounded by other people. “I love this connection; this thing that’s just ours.”_

_“We don’t have to end the spell.” Draco pointed out. “I mean, it’s not as though it affects us in any way outside of the dreams.” Draco’s lips curved up and he tapped his fingers lightly against Harry’s stomach, adding. “Other than this, of course, and now that we’re aware we can be more careful.”_

_Harry took a trembling breath, then asked. “And you don’t mind?”_

_“As long as I get you in real life as well, we can keep the spell forever for all I care.” Draco reassured him, pressing a kiss to messy black hair. “Now, before we tuck the baby away again and go on to round two...is anything else bothering you?”_

_Harry laughed, shaking his head and letting his stomach flatten and tone again. Then he rolled on top of Draco, straddling his waist and smirking down at him. “No, nothing else right now.”_

_Draco reached up, hooking a hand behind Harry’s neck and tugging the brunette’s mouth down to his, kissing him passionately. When he broke for air long moments later, he murmured softly against Harry’s lips. “Good. In that case, Harry, what do you want?”_

_Harry smiled back and whispered. “Everything.”_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand, everything in him feeling anxious and fluttery. He was still unsure; still second-guessing this choice. And they only had a few more minutes before everything was settled and ready to go. “You’re sure about this, Draco? That it’s a good idea?”

“Of course.” Draco brought Harry’s hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “It’s a good idea, Harry. It will give everyone something more to celebrate and help with the healing. People lost loved ones and that’s painful, but you’re their Savior and your son is going to matter to them. His birth is a reaffirmation that the war is over; that you won; that it’s all okay now. Choosing today - a bittersweet date of loss and victory - is perfect.”

Harry nodded, struggling to calm down. His head snapped up when the door to his room - one of the three private rooms the hospital wing boasted - opened. He slumped against the pillows when Hermione stuck her head in. “The Weasleys are here. They wanted to come in and say hi before the delivery, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Harry smiled, though it was a little bit forced. “Of course. Is it everyone, then?” Hermione nodded and Harry laughed when Draco muttered something under his breath about sardines. “Shush, you. This room is plenty big enough. It’s fine, Hermione. Bring them all in.”

Hermione walked out again and Draco perched himself on the edge of Harry’s mattress, still holding his hand. The door opened again and Hermione came in, followed by a large number of people Draco didn’t know, but was vaguely afraid of. Harry grinned widely as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, and Ginny all followed Hermione into the room. Draco’s grip on Harry’s hand tightened until it was painful and Harry sucked in sharp breath.

“Draco, love...” He hissed, pinching Draco’s arm. “You’re breaking my fingers. Calm down. They’re not going to attack.” Draco forced his grip to relax, then Harry turned back to his visitors. “Hey, everybody. Thanks for coming...”

Molly bustled over and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Of course we came, Harry! One of my babies has a baby, I’m going to be there!” Then she smiled tentatively at Draco. “Hello, Draco. I don’t believe we’ve ever been introduced. I’m Molly Weasley.”

“Ah...yes.” Draco cleared his throat awkwardly, then held out his free hand for her to shake. When she did, he forced a brittle smile. “Thank you for coming.”

Molly frowned and Harry chuckled softly. “He’s just nervous, that’s all. I promise he’s really sweet once you get to know him. Ask Hermione.”

Ginny giggled and moved forward, kissing each of Harry’s cheeks and saying. “I’m really glad things are working out for you, Harry.” She flicked her eyes to Draco and added teasingly. “Treat him right, Malfoy, or I might just try to steal him back!”

Draco rolled his eyes; he was used to Ginny’s teasing threats by now and they didn’t faze him. “Over my dead body, She-Weasel.”

Ginny giggled again, then nudged aside her horrified mother to press a kiss to Draco’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone here kill you. And they’ll get used to your humor eventually.”

Arthur stepped forward, clapping Harry on the shoulder affectionately. “Feeling well?” When Harry nodded, Arthur turned to Draco and said companionably. “You must be a wreck, Draco! I remember when Bill was born; I didn’t know _what_ to do with myself. Have you fainted yet? Don’t be surprised if you do.”

Draco’s eyes were the size of saucers and he cringed into Harry’s side, but his voice was level and cool when he spoke. “Malfoys do _not_ faint. I will handle this with the aplomb and grace that has been bred into my family for generations.”

“Good luck with that.” Molly laughed, shaking her head. “Arthur never stopped being nervous, not even with Ginny! And by then I’d managed five pregnancies and birthing six children. You’ll panic at some point. But it’s perfectly natural.”

“She’s right, you know.” Draco’s head snapped to the door when he heard his mother’s soft voice. She stepped inside, leading an icy-looking Lucius, a huge smile on her face. “Your father was removed from the delivery room because he seemed to believe pacing and yelling at everyone was the best way to cope with me being in pain.”

Draco stood when Narcissa approached, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Mother. I didn’t know you and Father were coming. You should have told me. I’d have met you at the gates.”

“Nonsense.” Narcissa chided, waving Draco off. “You belong precisely where you are; at Harry’s side, making him twice as nervous as he would be otherwise. That’s how it’s done.” She shared a knowing smile with Molly, then leaned over the bed to press a kiss to a startled Harry’s cheek. “I’m sorry we’ve not been to visit sooner, Harry. How are you feeling?”

“Er...big as a house and ready to be done with this part of it.” Harry admitted, blushing but feeling like he could probably be honest about this.

Molly and Narcissa exchanged another knowing look, then Molly said. “Well, that’s perfectly normal. Once you hit a certain point in the pregnancy, you just want to _not_ be pregnant anymore.”

“Yes, until the baby is about a two.” Narcissa added. “Then you’ll start thinking about more children. I considered more myself, actually, but Lucius didn’t want more. Such a pity. I’d have enjoyed a houseful, I think.”

Molly smiled. “You say that because you’ve never had to control five small boys and an infant while pregnant with your seventh child. I love my children, but they were more than a handful most days. It will be nice to have a grandbaby, though. I can spoil the little darling, then return him when I get too exhausted!”

Narcissa laughed along with her and Arthur joined the women in their mirth, though Lucius remained stone-faced and silent near the door.

Fleur cleared her throat, stepping forward with Bill. “It’s good to see you again, ‘Arry.” She kissed his cheek lightly, then Bill patted Harry’s shoulder. Then Fleur turned to beam at Molly and said brightly. “You will be a grand-mère once more in another six months!”

While Molly and Arthur exclaimed loudly, fussing over Fleur, Harry smiled at Bill and murmured. “Well, congratulations. Try not to let your mum smother Fleur in advice.”

Bill nodded, smirking. “She can handle herself against Mum, actually, but you’re right. She’ll drive us both barmy, I’m sure. You were smart to keep it a secret for so long.”

“Not why I did it.” Harry pointed out dryly, though he was still smiling. “But yeah, being spared most of the fuss was a nice side effect.”

As Molly dragged Bill and Fleur off to the side to discuss the new baby, Charlie, George, and Percy all stepped forward to give Harry and Draco congratulations and to wish him luck with the delivery. Then Ron and Hermione finally got to step up to the bed.

“Nervous?” Ron asked in an undertone. When Harry nodded, he said. “I’m sure all of us aren’t helping much with that, but you know Mum. She insisted everyone had to come _before_. Then of course everyone gets to fuss _after_ as well. Doesn’t make much sense to me, but you can’t argue with her.”

“I know.” Harry replied, shaking his head. “Your mum is a force of nature.” The affection in his voice was plain to hear. “But it’s actually a nice distraction, having everyone crowding the place up.”

Hermione smiled at Draco, but her eyes were worried as they flicked over to Lucius. “Your father is being...quiet. Is everything okay?”

“Lucius has not quite come to terms with the fact that our grandson is growing inside Harry Potter.” It was Narcissa who answered, startling Hermione who had thought the woman had wandered off to the side with Molly and Arthur. “My husband is a stubborn man. But he knows he can’t fight this, so he’s slowly coming round.”

Suddenly there was a tap on the door, then Poppy stuck her head in. “I’m sorry to break this up, but we’re ready to get started so we’ll need the room cleared.” She smiled and added. “I believe Headmistress McGonagall has arranged for tea to be served in the main room of the Infirmary while you all wait.”

There were hurried goodbyes and best wishes as everyone filed out of the room. At last, it was just Poppy, Draco, and Harry. When Poppy stepped fully into the room, a man Harry had met only briefly followed her in. He was an older man, with salt-and-pepper hair, and he was dressed in the lime green robes all of the Healers at St. Mungo’s wore. “Hello, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling today?”

“Hello, Healer Jameson.” Harry said, his stomach twisting with nerves. “I’m...okay. Nervous. And ready to be done with this.”

The man nodded, smiling soothingly at his patient. “Well then, let’s get started.”

Harry drank the potion Poppy handed him with no fuss, though he made a face at the taste. She patted his hand and reassured him. “That will numb you. You’ll feel a little strange, because everything below a certain point is going to get heavy and then you won’t be able to feel it at all, but that’s normally. But I want you to tell me if you feel sleepy, or lightheaded, or nauseated, or if you have trouble breathing.”

Harry nodded, gripping Draco’s hand tightly. He was grateful when Poppy and Jameson used some charms to suspend a sheet just below at the bottom of his rib cage, blocking his view of his stomach. He was nervous enough without _seeing_ what they were doing. Poppy calmly cast spells to monitor Harry’s vitals, and the vitals of the baby. Healer Jameson used spells of his own, but what they did Harry didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to know.

Draco’s lips brushed Harry’s forehead, then his hair. “You’re going to be fine.” He murmured soothingly, though his palms were slick with sweat and he felt a bit queasy. He needed to be strong for Harry, so he would be. “And soon you’ll be holding our son.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh, but nodded. “Yeah, right. Guess that’s what makes it all worth it, right? That we get a baby in the end.”

Poppy smiled fondly at them around the sheet, saying. “We’re ready to start. If you like, you can step down here and watch, Mr. Malfoy, but if you’re at all squeamish I don’t advise it.”

Harry’s grip on Draco’s hand tightened and Draco squeezed back, smiling reassuringly at him. “Yes, thank you. I’d like to watch, if you’re sure it’s okay.”

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy.” Healer Jameson gestured with his hand and Draco moved down to the edge of the sheet, looking around it. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Draco swallowed nervously, then lifted his chin as he glanced back at Harry, forcing his lips to curve upwards once more. He squeezed the hand he was still holding and said. “Yes, let’s. I...that is, _we_ are eager to meet our son.”

Harry smiled back, looking incredibly small against the stark white sheets of the hospital wing’s bed. Draco dropped his eyes to the other side of the floating sheet, where Harry’s belly was exposed. There was a dotted line on Harry’s skin, low on his belly, marking where Jameson was going to cut. Jameson pointed his wand, murmuring the incantation. Draco’s eyes widened and his breathing grew erratic as blood welled against Harry’s skin. Poppy murmured a different spell, siphoning the blood away and revealing where the skin and muscle was now cut open.

Spots formed in front of Draco’s eyes as Jameson and Poppy continued casting, peeling back Harry’s skin and muscle to reveal the baby, encased in an amniotic sack and a protective bubble of magic. Unable to keep watching, Draco turned his back on the Healer and Mediwitch, moving closer to Harry’s head. Harry was watching him with concern, but Draco figured if he looked the way he felt then that wasn’t in the least bit surprising. He was sure his pale skin was now a greyish-green.

Draco forced out a laugh, saying weakly. “Apparently I’m more squeamish than I realized. It’s probably best if I stay up here by you.”

“Oh. Is it awful?” Harry bit his lip, asking anxiously. “Am I going to have a big, hideous scar now? I am, aren’t I? I’m going to have stretch marks and a scar and...”

“Hush.” Draco admonished, some color coming back into his cheeks as he shook his head in exasperation at Harry’s hysterics. “Madam Pomfrey and Healer Jameson aren’t going to let you have scars. Or stretch marks, for that matter. There are salves and such for that sort of thing.”

Suddenly there was a loud, screeching wail and Harry’s eyes grew wide. Draco turned his head back towards the bottom of the bed and his breath caught in his throat. Poppy was holding a squirming, screaming _something_ up above the sheet for them to see, beaming. Draco’s nose scrunched up as he looked at the purplish-white skin of the wrinkled child, who was covered in a mess of blood and fluids and other things that Draco didn’t want to think about. As Jameson cut the umbilical cord, then began to put Harry back together, Poppy moved to the side of the room with the still-screaming child. The only thing Draco could see that was a _positive_ thing was that the child appeared fully-formed, with all of his fingers and toes.

Harry tried to push himself up so he could follow her with his eyes, but Draco nudged him back down. “She’s just cleaning him up. Then she’ll bring him over. Now stay still so Healer Jameson can finish what he needs to finish.”

Harry nodded, collapsing back against the pillows. He bit his lip, then whispered. “He...he looked okay, right? I mean, he’s...well...”

“He’s perfect.” Poppy assured as she carried the child - now wrapped in a soft blue blanket - over to Harry and Draco. “Newly born infants - contrary to what parents will claim - are not attractive. But his color is pinking up nicely, and now he’s all clean, and as he gains weight and plumps up over the next couple of weeks he’ll be just as cute as a button. You’ll see.”

Poppy leaned down to hand the still-screaming child to Harry, but he murmured. “No. Let Draco hold him first.” When Poppy looked surprised, he added. “I’m still being worked on.”

“Yes...yes, of course.” Poppy moved around the bed and carefully placed the wriggling child in Draco’s trembling arms. “There you go, Mr. Malfoy. Your son.”

Draco looked down at the scrunched-up face, which was now bright red, and stammered. “Wh-what am I supposed to...to do with him?”

Healer Jameson laughed as he began casting cleaning spells on himself and Harry, signaling that he was all done patching the teen up. “I believe you should bounce him, Mr. Malfoy, and soothe him. He’s just been born, which is quite an ordeal.”

Draco took a deep breath, then tried to bounce the child in his arms. But his son seemed so small, so fragile...and bouncing him just felt terrifying, not soothing. So instead Draco cradled the child to his chest and began to twist at the waist, gently rocking him back and forth. He made soft shushing sounds as he twisted back and forth and, to his amazement, the child’s screaming softened to whimpers before stopping completely. Then he blinked open eyes that were a deep, dark blue and stared up at Draco.

Draco let out a stuttering laugh and looked over at Harry in amazement. “He’s looking at me. And he’s got the strangest color eyes...”

“Newborn eyes.” Poppy stated matter-of-factly as she banished the sheet that had blocked Harry’s view of his son’s birth and helped settle Harry in a sitting position on the bed; Jameson was filling out Harry’s chart. “I expect they’ll change to grey or green sometime in the next six months. Almost no child keeps the color they’re born with.”

Draco sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed once he was neatly tucked under the blanket, still cradling the now-silent child in his arms. “Meet our son.” Draco murmured, unable to keep his eyes off the child for more than a few seconds at a time.

Poppy reached out and helped shift the baby from Draco’s arms to Harry’s, saying fondly. “He really is a lovely-looking baby. You did a marvelous job, Harry.”

“Thanks.” Harry whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

Harry bounced the child lightly in his arms, the way Andromeda had taught him to do with his godson Teddy, his breath escaping on a shaky sob when the child made a small gurgling sound and blinked those wide, dark eyes. He looked up, his mouth trembling softly, locking eyes with Draco for a moment. Everything in him felt warm and shivery and glowing.

Then he glanced back down and managed in a choked voice. “Look what I did...” He let out another sob and added. “Look what we made.”

“I see him.” Draco assured him, reaching out and touching Harry’s cheek. Then he gently brushed his fingertips over the top of the baby’s head, adding. “I know he’s still sort of funny-looking, and scrunchy, but somehow he’s just _gorgeous_.”

Harry let out a watery laugh, then looked up and grinned. “Oh, good. I thought it was just me. I don’t know why, but the more I look at him...he’s _perfect_.”

Jameson finished with Harry’s chart and unrolled an official-looking scroll. “Now there’s just the little matter of naming him. Assuming you’ve chosen, of course. If not, you can fill this out and file it with the Ministry whenever you’re ready.”

“We’re ready.” Draco told him softly. Then he glanced at Harry and added. “Unless you’ve changed your mind...”

“I haven’t.” Harry leaned slightly to the left, pressing himself up against Draco’s side. The Slytherin placed his arm around Harry’s shoulders, letting Harry snuggle into him as Harry told the Healer. “His name is Regulus James.”

Jameson nodded, his quill moving over the paper. “And is his last name going to be Potter, or Malfoy?” He smiled at them, quill poised to finish the document.

Draco stiffened; he and Harry hadn’t thought to discuss that. But Harry didn’t hesitate. “Malfoy. His last name is Malfoy.” When Draco looked down at him, startled, Harry explained. “It’s important to you. I’d have to be an idiot not to know that. And it’s important to your parents. There’s no Potters left to care if the name dies with me.”

Jameson finished writing, then tapped the scroll to send it zipping off to the Ministry. “Well, that’s all done then. Would you like me to send your visitors back in on my way out?”

“Yes, please. And thank you.” Harry replied, still looking at Draco, who hadn’t said anything. He heard Jameson leave, then asked softly. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that.” Draco said with a little bark of laughter. “You shouldn’t have done that, you know. Your name has less taint to it.”

Harry shrugged carelessly. “Less taint...more pressure.” He pointed out uncomfortably. “It’s almost too much for me sometimes, being a Potter. I wouldn’t want to pass that on. Unreasonable expectations aren’t fair to place on a baby.”

The door opened again and the Weasleys, Hermione, and the Malfoys poured in. They all gathered around the bed, cooing and offering their congratulations once more. As everyone was busy fussing about how “perfect” the baby was, Draco noticed that Regulus was turning his face into Harry’s chest and mewling softly. He tsked and looked around for Poppy, catching her eye over the teeming mass of humanity that had invaded the room.

“What is it, Draco?” She asked, bustling over to the bedside and easily nudging her way through everyone present. “Is something wrong?”

“I think Regulus is hungry.” Draco explained, gesturing to the way his son was moving. Harry’s eyes widened and he understood what the movement meant - Regulus was trying to latch onto Harry to eat.

Poppy nodded and patted Harry’s shoulder. “Let him suck on your littlest finger for a moment, Harry, while I fetch you a bottle for him. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Harry awkwardly fumbled with his son for a moment, then Draco reached over and placed his own pinky into Regulus’ tiny mouth so Harry could still hold him with both hands. “Thanks...” Harry said, his cheeks darkening as he blushed. “Guess I need practice.”

“Did you call him Regulus, Draco?” Narcissa asked, her lower lip quivering. “You named him Regulus?”

“Oh!” Harry laughed, shaking his head at his own forgetfulness. “You were all so busy saying how beautiful he is that I didn’t think to say it. His name is Regulus James Malfoy.”

“I think that’s a lovely name.” Harry’s head snapped around, grinning widely, at the sound of Andromeda Tonks’ voice from the doorway. She stepped in, carrying little Teddy on one hip. “How are you feeling?”

Harry leaned over to press a kiss to Teddy’s turquoise hair when Andromeda leaned down. “I’m feeling just find, Andi. Thanks for coming.” He grinned at Teddy and said. “How’s my big boy doing?”

Teddy grinned back, revealing the handful of shiny white baby teeth he had, then he stretched out both hands and demanded imperiously. “Up!”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t right now, Teddybear. I’m holding my son. His name is Regulus and he’s your cousin. See? He’s just a baby.”

Teddy looked down at the baby cuddled in Harry’s arms and pouted, his hair darkening to a deep blue as he sulked. “Up!” He demanded again, his arms still held out. “Up, ‘Awwy!”

Narcissa stepped up, saying softly. “Why don’t I hold you, Teddy?” She held out her arms and Teddy seemed to consider it for a moment before leaning towards her. Narcissa smiled at Andromeda and said softly. “How have you been, Andromeda?”

“Well enough.” Andromeda replied, smiling slightly back. “Teddy keeps me busy. And yourself?”

“Well enough.” Narcissa parroted back, laughing in delight as Teddy touched her hair, then let his own lighten to match the white-blonde color. “That’s very clever of you, darling. And you look very handsome like that.”

Poppy came back in, holding a bottle which she handed to Draco as soon as she realized Harry wasn’t comfortable holding Regulus with just one hand. Draco pulled his finger from his son’s mouth and nudged the bottle’s nipple against the little boy’s lips. He opened for it instantly, sucking hungrily, his eyes locked on Draco’s face as he ate. Draco smiled down at him, holding the bottle steady.

Suddenly Molly’s hand was over Draco’s, adjusting the angle he was holding the bottle at. “He’ll get less gas if you hold it at an angle.” She said, looking almost nervous.

Draco smiled at her, hoping to put her at ease. Not merely because she was so important to Harry, but also because she had raised seven children and he intended to pump her for information as often as possible. “I didn’t know that. Thank you.”

Molly smiled back, seeming to relax. “Of course. I’m happy to help. If you or Harry have any questions, you just feel free to ask.”

“I will, thank you.” Draco said softly, looking back at his son. He noticed Harry smiling warmly at him and winked cheekily, adding. “I imagine we’ll have a lot of questions and you _are_ the expert.”

Molly flushed darkly, seeming flustered, but Harry laughed loudly, saying soothingly. “He’s just teasing you, I promise. We really are grateful for any advice.”

Lucius suddenly cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. As the whole room fell silent, except for Regulus’ sucking and Teddy’s happy babble to Narcissa, Lucius asked quietly. “Is the boy’s last name really Malfoy?” Harry nodded and Lucius bit out. “Draco, are you intending to _marry_ Potter?”

Draco turned to level an icy look at his father, his chin coming up stubbornly. “What if I am? Would that be a problem for you, Father? Because I’ve outgrown my childish need to seek your approval for my choices and I honestly don’t care what you think.”

“Er, Draco...” Harry was staring at Draco with wide, stunned eyes. “Did...did you just propose to me? Well, not to _me_ , really, to your father...but you know what I mean.”

“I...” Draco’s mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, then curved upwards. “Yes, I suppose I did, in a manner of speaking. Is that okay?”

“I don’t know!” Harry exclaimed, looking faint. “I...you can’t just _propose_ out of nowhere like that!” Harry was breathing erratically, his eyes as wide as they’d go. “You need to give a bloke some warning!”

That assertion was met with laughter from many of the people in the room, making Harry blush and duck his head. “I didn’t mean...I just...he startled me!”

“You cannot marry him!” Lucius snarled, his whole face twisted with anger. His fingers were curled around the handle of his cane, which housed a new wand. “After everything that our family has been through, if you marry Potter...”

“It’ll be like admitting you were wrong?” Draco asked coldly. “Merlin forbid. And if you draw your wand in the presence of my son, I will not hesitate to attack you. Is that clear?”

Lucius sputtered and Narcissa placed a restraining hand on his arm, Teddy still balanced on her other hip though he was silently watching the adults now. “Lucius, don’t. Draco has a right to his happiness, wherever he manages to find it. And they have a child together already. I do believe that ship has sailed. Do not rip my family apart. I won’t stand for it.”

Lucius immediately pulled back, lowering his head. He looked at Narcissa, regret showing clearly on his face as he murmured. “I’m sorry, love. You’re right.” He turned back to Draco, straightening his shoulders, and said stiffly. “I will need some time to adjust.”

Draco inclined his head, accepting this. Narcissa turned, handing Teddy to Andromeda and saying. “I do believe that’s our cue to take our leave.” She ruffled Teddy’s hair, then bussed cheeks with her sister. “Do bring him to tea soon. I should like to get to know him.”

Andromeda murmured her agreement, then Narcissa walked to the bed, where Draco was removing the small, now-empty bottle from Regulus’ mouth. “I’ll see you soon, darling.” She kissed his cheek, giving him a quick hug. Then she brushed her fingers over the baby’s forehead before leaning down and kissing Harry’s cheek, startling him. “Welcome to our family, Harry.”

Lucius and Narcissa were gone a moment later. Molly carefully helped drape a small cloth over Draco’s shoulder, then she showed him the proper way to hold Regulus while patting his back to encourage him to burp. Draco smiled gratefully at her, soothingly patting his son’s back. He rocked slightly at the same time, savoring the weight of Regulus in his arms, making soft sleepy sounds near his ear.

The Weasleys left shortly after that, as did Andromeda and Teddy. Even Poppy followed them out of the room. As Regulus let out a burp - and a small amount of spit-up - only Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were still in the room.

“So, Harry...” It was Ron who spoke first and it was hesitant. “You...you never actually answered Malfoy’s question. Or his non-question. About marrying him.”

Harry turned pink while Draco muttered about a lack of subtlety. Then he glanced at Draco from under his lashes and asked softly. “Were you _actually_ proposing to me? Or was that...you know...just a stand-up-to-your-father sort of moment?”

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly, then turned to lay Regulus - who had fallen asleep almost the instant he’d burped - in the bassinet. Once he’d settled his son, Draco laid the burping cloth aside and returned to the bed. He cupped Harry’s face in both his hands, saying solemnly. “I meant every single word, Harry. If you want to, I would love to marry you.”

Harry’s eyes flicked nervously to his friends and Draco’s face fell. An instant later his hands dropped from Harry’s face and he straightened up, all emotion gone from his face. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to cross any boundaries.”

“No!” Harry reached for Draco, his eyes showing his desperation. “No, I didn’t...I just wished we were doing this in _private_. I...I want to marry you. I do.”

Draco leaned down, kissing Harry fiercely and ignoring the sounds of Ginny catcalling, Hermione giggling, and Ron pretending to gag. When he pulled back a moment later, he rested his forehead against Harry’s and murmured teasingly. “Oh thank Merlin. I was worried I’d have to dose you with a love potion to get you to agree to have my parents as in-laws.”

Harry laughed breathlessly, then replied. “No, no potion required. Just you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_**Epilogue** :_

“Papa!” The shriek echoed through the house, making Draco cringe. His child was part-Banshee; he was sure of it. “Papa! Come quick!”

Draco shook his head but got to his feet and walked to the door of his study, which was open. He stepped into the hallway and yelled back. “If you’re not dead or dying, you can come here instead of screaming the house down!”

An instant later, the owner of the high, screechy voice skidded into the hallway, long black hair flying everywhere. Huge grey eyes filled with tears stared up at him, washing away his annoyance and replacing it with concern. “What’s wrong, Vega, my sweet?”

His four year old daughter - younger than Regulus by three years - sniffled and ran into his arms when he crouched down and held them out to her. In a small voice, she said. “Daddy needs help. He told me come get you.”

As fear tore through him, Draco surged to his feet, Vega held securely in his arms. “Where is Daddy, Vega? I need to know so I can go to him.”

“Upstairs, in the bathroom.” Vega whispered back, trembling now as she caught on to her father’s fear. “He has Reggie with him.”

Grateful that at least Harry wasn’t alone, Draco ran down the hallway, hurrying towards the stairs. Harry was currently seven months pregnant with what would be their third child. A dozen horrible scenarios flew through his mind as he rushed up the stairs, then rocketed into the bathroom. He froze just inside the doorway, his mouth falling open in shock. Of all the things he could have imagined, _this_ would never have made the list.

Regulus was sitting on the floor, reading a copy of Beedle’s Tales and seeming utterly unconcerned, while Harry - a towel draped over his lap - sat in the empty tub. He was flushed, looking horribly embarrassed, and he mumbled. “I can’t get up.”

Draco’s lips pressed together, then twitched upwards. Harry narrowed his eyes and warned. “Draco Malfoy, if you laugh at me...”

Draco set his daughter down, still struggling not to laugh, then walked over to the tub. “Not laughing.” He promised as he leaned down, though it came out choked. “Just helping.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Harry didn’t sound as though he believed Draco, but he held up his hands for assistance anyway.

Draco crossed his arms and Harry did the same, then they locked hands, their wrists locking against each other’s as Draco tugged. Harry groaned, but managed to stagger to his feet and climb out of the tub with Draco’s assistance. Draco grabbed a new, dry towel from the warming rack and handed it to Harry, smirking. Harry wrapped the enormous, fluffy thing around his rather-large waist, still blushing.

“Next time, tell Vega to tell me you’re not hurt.” Draco murmured, pressing a kiss to Harry’s damp hair. Both of their children had inherited the wild black mess, though only Regulus had Harry’s green eyes. He brushed his hand lovingly against Harry’s stomach and said thoughtfully. “Maybe this one will have blonde hair...”

Harry laughed, relaxing now that he knew most of Draco’s urge to laugh was relief that Harry and the baby were okay. “I hope she has blonde hair as well. At least one of our children should.”

“If she doesn’t...” Draco murmured, his tongue darting out to trace the line of Harry’s jaw.

“Ewww!” Vega’s shrill, but laughing admonishment reminded Draco that he was _not_ alone with his husband at the moment. “Come on Reggie. Daddy and Papa are _kissing_ again.”

Regulus stood up, his finger marking his place in his book, and said. “Alright, Veggie.” Vega made a face at the nickname Regulus called her whenever she called him _‘Reggie’_ instead of _‘Reg’_ like he preferred. “I can read in the garden, if you want to play outside.”

Draco turned and said sternly. “Stay _inside_ the garden walls!” His children had been known to wander. “I don’t want the neighbors having to bring you two back again. Are we clear?”

When they agreed and wandered off, Draco turned back to Harry - who was now facing the mirror, his back to Draco - and asked slyly. “Where were we?”

“You were trying to convince me to keep having children until we get a blonde.” Harry reminded him as he used a second towel to dry his hair. He smiled fondly at Draco’s reflection, locking eyes in the mirror as he did so, adding. “I don’t mind. You tend to make very compelling arguments for more of them. But you should probably wait to see if she’s a blonde or not first.”

“Mmmm...” Draco wound his arms around Harry’s waist, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of Harry’s shoulder. “What if I said I don’t care what color hair she has, I just want more brats?”

Harry tipped his head back, resting against his husband, and said softly. “I’d say that sounds perfectly fine with me.”

Draco pressed another kiss to damp skin and murmured. “I love you, Harry...”

“Love you, too.” Harry replied, turning in Draco’s arms and kissing him softly. “And I’m so glad you cast that spell.”

_**~ The End ~** _


End file.
